Aftermath
by Immokk
Summary: Brought back into her life by a strange document, the world they have both become accustomed to crashes down around them. Can they forget the past and trust each other again for their own safety? Can they ever forgive each other?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I've been away for a long time, changing jobs and getting married. I have written a lot in the last year but none of it developed past more than a few chapters… expect for this. **

**I've got a lot pre written but the chapters will at least need me to re-read them as I haven't touched them for a while. My new job means that my postings might be irregular but frequent reviews tend to help.**

**CHARACTER DEATH: If you don't like these turn away now. **

**A little graphic at times but rated T for now. Might change later, although this is unlikely. **

**I don't like flaming particularly and I'd appreciate anyone who doesn't like my style or storyline to kindly just go away. I do this simply for fun, because I enjoy it, and hopefully to give a few fans a little enjoyment too. If you don't like it, I am sorry but I won't change the story or my style for you. So, don't review, just click off. **

**Anyway, to those who haven't seen anything from me in a while and have been waiting, I'm sorry… forgive me. **

**I'm prone to lapses in concentration so forgive that too. **

**This story will be dark in places but is essentially a drama about love and friendship and hardship and all of the things that go with it. **

**Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do not own the Phantom of the Opera but I do love it. This is fun and I am making no profit or any income at all for that matter. **

**Read, review. Happy 2009.**

**Aftermath**

**Chapter 1**

Raoul took the first bullet right in the centre of his chest.

The wind was knocked out of him and he staggered, reaching out for help, his eyes wide, until eventually he fell to his knees on the cold, wet floor. The second shot was loaded fast and found his temple and Erik watched as the young Vicomte's blood sprayed out, his head no longer completely it tact.

To his horror he was finally realising that the worst fear in the world was not that you were going to die but that someone you loved was going to die. He glanced to his right where Christine stood completely motionless, staring at the dead body of her husband, his almost headless form face down on the dirt.

She was shaking her head, all thoughts now on Raoul and the fact that the man she loved was dead but all Erik could think was that Christine was next, it was the only way.

His heart was pounding in his chest with such ferocity he thought it might actually beat its way out. He looked down at his hands which were perfectly still but they were empty and he was reminded, once more, that he was weapon-less.

The gun man raised his pistol again and pointed it at Christine, beautiful, innocent Christine. 'Where is it?' he asked of her but she shook her head, still too shocked to register the severity of her situation.

The man with the gun, in the mask, was not going to be easily dissuaded from his task and he took another step closer. His arrogance was sickening. 'Where is it?' he repeated, unaccented. When Christine looked up at him, Erik caught the sight of tears in her dark eyes and he immediately felt his heart sink.

She blinked but said nothing.

'I want it,' the gunman said, with a calm that Erik would have admired under different circumstances.

'I don't have it,' Christine finally answered.

'Then you're no use to me,' he shrugged his shoulders.

Erik leapt forward, placing his body between the man's and Christine's. He had no idea who he was facing but what he did know was that this man was a ruthless killer and there was no way that Erik would allow him to take Christine whilst there was a slither of hope that she might live.

'What are you doing?' the gunman asked, staring at Erik.

'I have what you want,' Erik said, keeping his voice as even as he always did, even under the circumstances. He stared back at the young man with the gun, taking in the colour of his eyes, the timbre of his voice, his height, his weight…

'Where is it?'

'I'll take you to it,'

He felt Christine tense up behind him and he reached back, taking her hand and squeezing it gently. The man with the gun thought about it for a second and then nodded his head.

'Let her go,'

The man shook his head. 'You're in no position to negotiate,'

Erik knew that this was true yet he also knew that he must make the effort to free her, so that she would be safe, so that she could live.

'Walk,' the man with the gun instructed them and they did as they were told, much to Erik's utter disgust. After a brief walk they were at the end of the alleyway and Erik felt the gun man's pistol touch his back. 'Don't do anything that might give me a reason to use this,'

Erik's stomach bubbled with anger. 'I won't,' he said, not that he meant it particularly, given half an opportunity he would kill the man and would take great pleasure in it but the situation was risky. Erik was still completely unarmed and though his hands had proved useful weapons in the past, against a pistol it was very unlikely that both he and Christine would survive and that was, after all, the plan.

The stench of the Thames hit him like a fist as he turned the next corner in the pitch black London night. He was slowly becoming used to it but often wondered how the locals coped day in day out with the disgusting smell.

'Where are we going?' the gun man asked.

Erik glanced back over his shoulder. Christine was staring at the floor, her eyes a sad shadow of what he remembered them to be. The man was doing well to keep a distance large enough so that Erik could not spin around and catch his pistol arm but close enough that he could shoot either of them with very little aim.

'We need to walk towards the Houses of Parliament,' Erik answered, trying to keep the disdain from seeping into his tone.

'Why?'

'Because I hid what you're looking for there,'

The gun man said nothing else but prompted them with a grunt to keep moving. Erik led the way carefully along the side of the river which wound creatively through the centre of London. The Houses of Parliament slowly came into view and the gun man told them to walk faster, which made Erik smile… the man was getting nervous.

'What is your name?' Erik asked, but continued to walk. He wasn't foolish enough to expect the man to actually answer his question but it seemed a useful sort of distraction, conversation.

'I'm not telling you that,' the man said firmly.

'You know my name,' Erik said, reasonably, it felt childish but he stuck to the task.

'I don't,' the gun man answered to Erik's astonishment.

He turned around and looked at the gun man. 'You don't know me?'

The gun man stopped nervously, the mask on his face covering his expression but the tension in his body told Erik all he needed to know.

'No,' he said, being careful to stay well back from Erik.

Erik began to laugh, hoping the sound would be as off-putting for the man with the gun as it had once been for the occupants of the Opera Populaire.

It seemed to work and as the gun man began to look increasingly worried Christine did something that both amazed and pleased him.

As the gun man focused all of his attention of Erik, nervously stepping from foot to foot and attempting to work out what his employers had got him in to, Christine swung her leg around and kicked him as hard as her small frame could muster, in the shin.

The gun man yelped in pain but was not incapacitated for long, fortunately though, Erik was quick. He leapt onto him, pushing him to the ground, grabbing his wrist firmly in his hand. As the man struggled to retain the grip on his gun Christine walked to the side of him and kicked him, hard, in the side of the head.

Somehow the man managed to remain conscious but Christine was not done yet and with another swift kick the gun man lost most of his resistance and his hand loosened on the pistol. Erik grabbed it and stood up, pointing the barrel down at the would-be-assassin.

Christine had calmed momentarily. She reached down and removed his mask. He was young, with smooth cheeks and dark hair. Erik did not recognise him but Christine's gasp suggested that she did.

His eyes blinked and he opened his mouth to speak but she wound back and planted another kick into his ribs.

'Do you know him?' Erik asked, as the sky began to fall and drops of rain spattered all around them. The street was eerily quiet but for the sound of thick raindrops hitting the ground around them. It was a sound so unique to England.

Christine nodded slowly. 'He is… _was_ a friend of Raoul's,' her eyes shone with tears.

'You didn't recognise his voice?' Erik asked, surprised.

She shook her head, 'We only ever spoke once but he and Raoul would often go out shooting on the estate,'

Erik sighed at the thought of her living on an estate, it just didn't seem right for her. She was too headstrong, too _free_…

'Did you really hide it at the Houses of Parliament?' Christine asked him.

Erik smiled. 'No,'

'What would you have done when we got there?'

He shrugged. 'I didn't really intend to get there,' he watched as she turned away from him. 'I'm sorry,'

'Why?'

'I'm sorry about Raoul,'

She laughed sharply. 'You're not, Erik,'

'I'm not sorry that he is dead, Christine,' Erik said, simply, and if his comment surprised her she did not show it. 'I'm sorry that you're hurt,'

'I love him,' she said and Erik felt as though he had been stabbed right in the heart.

He swallowed, 'I know,'

She turned and looked over her shoulder in the direction that they had come. Her eyes were misted with her tears, her face sagged with a grief fighting to escape yet trapped by disbelief. Erik longed to reach out for her and pull her into his arms, where he knew, even if she didn't, that she would always be safe.

Instead, he did what was sensible and began to walk again through the haze of rain that smudged the horizon, hiding the tips of the buildings in the distance. Eventually, without being asked, Christine began to follow. Over the splashes of rain he could hear her quiet footsteps behind him.

When she spoke her voice was strained, 'We should go back,'

He didn't turn around because he couldn't bear to look at her, he simply could not bear to see her pain. 'For what?' he asked, fully aware of the cold tone of his voice.

'For Raoul,' she replied simply.

'We can't go back,'

He heard that her footsteps had stopped and so he too came to halt. She sighed loudly. 'We can't just leave him there like… that,'

'We've got to, Christine,'

'I can't leave him…'

Finally Erik turned around and looked at her. Tears were still threatening in her eyes but none had made it to her face. 'The police will be there soon, and then what?'

'How…'

'Someone will have heard the pistol shots Christine, they were certainly loud enough,' he knew that he was being overly sharp with her, in a way he even knew that it was unfair, but he needed her to understand that it was over with Raoul.

'We'll explain to the police,' she said resolutely.

Erik laughed. 'Explain what?'

'What happened,'

Erik stared down at the pistol in his hand, loaded and ready. 'We can't go back for him,'

'You have changed,' she snapped.

'I'm no different to the man you left behind in the cellars, Christine,' he said.

'You're weak!' she shouted, rather too loudly. He looked around him quickly. 'You're a coward now, you're a _coward_… you never were before but you are now, Erik, you're a coward,'

He knew that the words came from a place that he could never truly understand. Erik had lost her once but not in the way that she had just lost Raoul and he knew that she needed someone to blame. Still, the words she spat out cut him deeply and so he walked back towards the man lying on the floor.

'What are you doing?' she asked, running after him.

'I'm showing you that I'm not a coward and that this is not my fault,' he said simply, keeping the hurt from his voice.

The man was still lying on the floor, he had dipped in and out of consciousness and Erik could only assume that the blow to his temple and ribs had done him more harm than he had first expected.

'You are angry, Christine,' he explained. 'But you are not angry with me,'

She blinked as raindrops rolled onto her eyelashes.

He pointed down at the man groaning on the floor. 'You are angry at him,'

She stared from the man to Erik. 'He killed him,' she said quietly.

Erik nodded.

'How could you?' she asked the man.

He managed to look up but he didn't answer, he chose to ignore her question.

'Shoot him,' Erik said finally, watching as she stared at the man in the gutter in utter disgust.

She turned and faced Erik. 'What?'

'Shoot him,' Erik repeated.

'Why?'

'You're angry with him,' Erik shrugged. 'He has killed your husband, he has attempted to kill you, he kidnapped you… and if you allow him to live he will come again for whoever he is working on behalf of,'

He held the gun out but she shook her head. 'I can't,'

'Does that make you a coward?' he asked.

She closed her eyes. 'I think it does,'

Erik stood for a moment in the quiet London road, letting the rain soak through his white shirt. 'Let's go,' he finally said.

Nothing had changed with in Erik, he was still the man he always was and as they moved away he felt a sharp twinge in his stomach, a firm sensation that spread through his veins and escaped into his mind. Christine continued on ahead of him, assessing the situation and assessing herself and once she was a few yards ahead, Erik turned, pointed the gun at the man on the floor and without a second thought or a moments hesitation he simply pulled the trigger.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Christine knew that it was coming and even as she heard the shot behind her she continued to walk, attempting to ignore the harsh reality of what was really happening around her. It wasn't as though she did not know that Raoul was gone but it seemed so impossibly clear, that she was numb all over. She could feel no pain and though tears kept welling in her eyes, she had no way of letting them out.

Erik caught up to her and when she finally turned to look at him she found that his face was no different, there was no smile nor frown, there was an eerie calm to his expression that always frightened her. She had called him a coward but she knew, deep inside, how wrong she was.

If she honestly believed that the man standing next her was a coward then he would not be there at all and she would undoubtedly be dead, alongside her husband… or much, much sooner.

The whole thing had started a couple of months earlier when Raoul was visited by an unexpected and entirely unwelcome guest. Philippe De Chagny, who was a few years older than Raoul and far more ruthless, appeared at their Berkshire home one day and insisted on seeing his estranged brother.

The brothers had parted ways when Philippe had objected to Raoul marrying the chorus girl who had caused him so much trouble in Paris. The problem that Philippe had incurred was that Raoul loved Christine and she him, and no amount of threats would change that. In the end it was left to Raoul to make the decision between his inheritance and his love.

_He chose Christine._

_He chose love._

They married quickly in Paris before they left for Portsmouth, England. From Portsmouth Raoul contacted an old friend who lived in a place called Surrey. Christine soon learned that her new husband was far shrewder than she had ever really given him credit for. There was a home in Berkshire, not far from Surrey, that his father had entrusted to him before his death. Raoul had also invested some money which had grown to the point where they could live quite comfortably on it.

When Philippe had appeared at their door they had not seen the older brother for nearly a year and a half and they were getting on perfectly well without him. Raoul was surprised and worried.

It turned out that he was absolutely right to be.

Philippe told them both that he had been chased across France for a document that he had somehow come to be in possession of. When they had stared at him in a sort of dumb founded surprised, he had taken from his case a large brown envelope. He handed it to Raoul who immediately moved to open it but Philippe placed his hand on his brothers and shook his head. 'Don't read it,' he had said and his eyes must have held something so deep that Raoul had stared at him for a long moment and then placed the envelope on the table.

'What do you want from us?' Raoul has asked, without taking his eyes away from his brother.

Philippe has sighed loudly. 'I need you to keep it safe until a man called Gustav Edmund comes for it.' Philippe broke into a small smile. 'I don't know if that's his real name but that is how he will introduce himself to you,'

Christine had been surprised at the whole turn of events but didn't really know what to say. It was her husband who eventually broke the silence, 'You'll have to keep it,'

Philippe shook his head. 'I can't,' he said.

'Why?'

'They know me,' Philippe had said nervously.

'Who?'

'The ones who are looking for this,' Philippe had nodded to the envelope.

'Gustav' Raoul asked.

Philippe shook his head. 'No,'

'I don't unders…'

'They're going to kill me,' Philippe said sharply. 'I need you to take this and wait for Gustav to come,'

'You're putting us in danger?' Raoul asked incredulously.

'They don't know about you,' Philippe's eyes had been wide and pleading, Christine had never seen him like that before and from the look on Raoul's face, neither had he. 'I need you to do this… it won't be for long,'

Raoul had taken another look at the envelope and nodded.

'Only we three and Gustav know his name…' Philippe said. 'When you hear it said, you know you can hand the document over,'

'What is it?' Raoul asked.

'It's better that you don't know,' Philippe explained. 'Then you can never be asked what it contains,'

'Who is looking for you?' Raoul asked.

'I don't know but they have already tried to get the papers,' he said and then with a look around him he jumped to his feet. 'Protect it Raoul,'

'But…'

'Goodbye brother,'

A week later they heard news that Philippe had been stabbed to death in an alleyway in Normandy.

Erik's voice brought her back from her thoughts. 'Are you alright?'

She blinked her eyes and stared at him. His hair was soaked with the London rain and with it he looked darker than ever.

'I'll never love you,' she said, turning her back on him. For a moment she thought that he was not following her but he drew up beside her and grabbed her arm.

She gasped with the shock, felt his fingertips dig into her muscle. 'I don't want your love Christine, those days are long gone,' he snarled, a cool blue taking over his light eyes, flecks of silver and gold smeared their edges.

She tugged her arm back, fear rising into her chest. 'Then why are you here?'

Erik's arms dropped to his side. 'I've been paid well to protect you…'

'Some good that did!' she snapped, visions of blood and blackness in her mind. 'You let Raoul die!'

Erik laughed and she felt anger that he would look at her and laugh at her sorrow. He smiled and shrugged his shoulders, 'Raoul did not pay me to protect him, Christine,'

She blinked in the rain.

'You,' he said. 'Only you,'

'Surely he paid you to protect him to,' she said. 'What is the point…'

'I was told that should the choice be between protecting you and protecting him, then I was always to choose you,'

Again, she turned her back on him, this time to gaze out onto the river, 'There was a time when you needn't have been told that… when you would have made that decision yourself,'

'Don't sound so sorry for yourself,' he spat. 'You can't have it both ways,'

She felt a cold wave of nausea sweep over her and she wondered if it was the loss of Raoul or Erik's words that had made her sick. Perhaps it was both. When she turned back around Erik had begun to walk away and so she was forced to chase after him, at that moment she had nothing and no one to turn to except for him. It pained her to be reliant on Erik but they had needed someone and now she needed someone, there was only them left.

'Where are we going?' she asked, as she caught up to him. The rain was falling heavier and she saw how his white shirt clung to the muscles in his back. The sight should have made her feel safe- safe that he was so strong- instead it made her feel sick.

Murderous arms, murderous muscles.

'Does it matter?' he asked, continuing to walk, his voice cold and his footsteps almost silent.

'Of course it matters,' she said, not quite believing that he could be so blasé.

'Why?'

'It just does,' she answered. 'I've lost my husband, I've lost my home… I've lost everything,'

'Any yet somehow I'm still here,'

She gritted her teeth. 'You said yourself that you have been paid well,'

'But there is nothing to stop me from turning and walking away,' he said coolly. 'My life has been endangered,'

'You were told someone was trying to kill us,' she said quietly, watching him as he refused to stop moving away from her. Again and again she was forced to catch him up, he wasn't waiting, he wasn't interested.

'Don't panic, Christine,' his voice was like ice, sharp and cold. 'I am still a man of my word, your precious life is safe in my hands,'

She blinked away rain water and caught him up yet again, this time trying to fall into step with him. 'I hate you, you know?'

'So I gather,' he said simply, without looking at her.

The fact that he didn't even tilt his face towards her only made her more angry. She wasn't really sure where all of the rage was coming from, she felt it in her stomach, a fury like no other she had felt before. She wanted to hit him.

There was a pulse through her arms that was trying to urge them upwards and fly at him but she knew that she could not. What he said was right. If nothing else, he had always stuck to his word. He had promised Raoul, that for the money he had received, he would protect Christine.

A murderer and manipulator he was… a liar he was not.

She pushed down the anger and walked along by his side in the darkness and dampness quietly. They had been in London for several weeks looking for Gustav, he had not been there though and she wondered briefly if it had all been a ruse.

A ruse… how could it be? Someone had killed her husband for the papers that were in their possession, it was no lie but perhaps there was no Gustav, perhaps they were all to die anyway. The very though chilled her blood ice cold.

Christine was not really sure how long they had walked for or how far they had gone but with every step she knew that she was carrying herself further away from Raoul, further away from the life and love she had come to know. Now she was with Erik and he was to protect her but there was no time specified and she knew that at any moment he could leave her.

A life at Erik's side would be dark, she knew but currently her hopes without him were certainly bleaker still.

After a while longer, feet aching and wet through to her bones Erik finally stopped at an alleyway and eventually he turned to face her. The anger was gone from his eyes, they were once again there usual ocean blue.

'Where are we?' she asked, and she realised that she too had lost her anger. All that was left within her was resignation. She had yet to decide about her will to live.

'I know someone here,' he said quietly, 'Follow me,'

She stared at him for a long moment to make sure that she had heard him correctly but as he began to move away she realised that he genuinely was going to make her follow him into the dark alley.

Half way down he stopped and turned to an old looking door. He knocked twice in quick succession and then fell silent, as if he was listening carefully. After several long minutes there was a knock at the other side.

'It's me,' he said despite Christine expecting him to chant some sort of password.

The bolts on the other side of the door began to clank and eventually the door opened inwards. Without a word Erik stepped inside and Christine followed gingerly. The door was closed behind her and they were led into a very open and warm living area, a stark contrast to the dark and dreary night outside.

'Erik,' the voice came from behind but she recognised it immediately.

Nadir had changed very little over the time that had past since she last saw him. He was still short and stocky, but seemed to have a lost a little weight, his dark eyes still sparkled brightly and his face, though weathered, was friendly and warm.

'Daroga,'

'Is it time already?' Nadir asked.

'I'm sorry to bring this to your door, my friend,' Erik said gently.

Nadir nodded his head. 'Christine,' he said.

She smiled at him as best she could under the circumstances.

Nadir turned his attention back to Erik. 'He is gone then?'

Erik gave one nod but said nothing.

'I see,' Nadir sighed. 'Then the time has really arrived,'

'Yes,'

Christine felt confused, the two men seemed to have some arrangement. 'What are we going to do?' she asked, glancing from Erik to Nadir and then back again. She wanted answers, this was her life, she wanted to know what they intended to do with her.

'You are going to follow Michelle up the stairs,' Nadir said softly, pointing at the young woman in the corner of the room. 'She will help you clean and get you some fresh clothes, the last thing we need is you contracting some sort of consumption,'

'Then what?' Christine asked.

Erik glared at her. 'Do as you're told, Christine,'

She opened her mouth to argue but she saw from his eyes that there was no room for negotiation and so she quietly followed the young woman, Michelle, up the stairs at the corner of the room, straining to hear Erik and Nadir's conversation as she did.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Erik waited as Nadir poured him a hot tea and then doused it generously in Scottish whisky. When the cup was in his hands he felt the warmth run through his veins into his arm. He took a sip, it was tangy but bearable and then he sat down near to the fire to dry off.

Nadir was studying him quietly, he could feel the Persian's eyes upon him even as he slowly sipped at his cup of tea. Finally, Nadir spoke, 'I need to know the full story,'

'I can only tell you what I have been told,'

Nadir smiled. 'And what you have deduced,'

Erik nodded.

'Start at the beginning,' Nadir suggested and settled back into his seat.

'Antoinette told them where to find me,'

The Persian laughed. 'Typical,'

'She was trying to help them,' Erik said, feeling peculiarly defensive of his old friend.

'I know that,' Nadir smiled. 'She is always trying to help, very often without success,'

'She is a good woman,' Erik said.

'And from you, that might just be the highest compliment of all,'

Erik scowled.

'Don't be so protective,' Nadir chastised and Erik felt the familiar pangs of anger in his gut. 'Antoinette does not need your protection anymore, when was the last time she even wrote back to you?'

Erik knew that it was true, he often wrote to Antoinette, missing her company and her wisdom but she rarely replied and when she did the response was often curt. It was his fault, he knew, he had destroyed a lot at the Opera Populaire but it was something he lived with. The only thing he could not stand was losing Antoinette. She had saved his life and been his true friend for many years, forgiving most of his faults.

Antoinette was angry with him for what he had done and it was something he was forced to spend his life in the knowledge of.

'So, she told them where to find you?' Nadir asked and when Erik nodded, Nadir said, 'Why were they looking for you to begin with?'

'They needed my help,' Erik replied.

'I would have thought you were the last person the De Chagny's would want help from,'

Erik's smile was as humourless as it was real. 'I am,'

'They why…'

'Because they couldn't think of anyone else with my ability,' he shrugged.

'Probably true,'

A smile graced Erik's lips.

'Alright,' Nadir nodded. 'Why did they need your help?'

Erik stared into the flames of the fire as they licked up at the chimney. 'They were in danger,'

'What sort of danger?' The Persian asked.

'Imminent death,' Erik smiled. 'It would appear that the threat was more real than I initially predicted,'

'Who killed Raoul?'

'A minion,' Erik answered. 'Of that I'm sure. The big cats do not do their own killing,'

Nadir smiled. 'And you would know,' and then he added, less than cautiously, 'Is he dead?'

Erik glanced at him.

'The minion, is he dead?'

Erik nodded his head.

'I expected nothing less,' Nadir said. 'Why are these people looking for her?'

'Something to do with a document,' Erik replied.

'What document?'

Erik shrugged. 'I haven't read it, but I _have_ hidden it,'

'Is it safe?'

'For now,'

Nadir ran one of his thick hands over his face before looking back over at Erik. The firelight caught in his eyes and glinted sharply. 'You told me you might need me, it appears that time has come,'

With a nod Erik rose from his seat and walked to the fireplace, leaning against it briefly before moving across the room again. Never before in his life had he been so nervous, there was something about the whole situation that he truly did not like… it put him on edge.

It wasn't that Raoul had been killed, if he was honest the mere fact that the boy was gone did nothing to his heart. He knew that he was cold but as far as he was concerned Raoul had, ultimately, been the reason that Christine had not loved Erik. It was something he had never come to terms with.

When they had appeared at his home his first instinct had been to kill the man there and then but he had seen the way that Christine adored him and somehow, in his frozen heart he had found the will to let them be. They needed his help.

Raoul, he didn't care about but Christine… even after all that had happened, even after her betrayal, he could not see anything happen to her. She was in danger and she was asking for his help. The money offered sweetened the deal, of course, but what he would never tell her is that even without the money he would have been at her beckon call.

It made him sick.

It was a long time before he noticed that Nadir was staring at him curiously, he had often looked at Erik this way in the past and he knew what was coming.

'You love her,' Nadir said, a little more quietly than Erik expected but he appreciated the discretion. 'Still,'

For the first time in a year Erik's head dropped and he stared at the floor. He loved her still, would probably love her always. The harsh reality that she did not love him had proved nothing of a deterrent and he felt as strongly now as he did back in Paris.

Nadir was still staring at him and Erik could have sworn he saw sorrow in the older man's black eyes. 'What is it that you need me to do, friend?' The Persian asked, after a long moment of silence, only the pop and crackle of the fire to fill the room.

'I need to know who is trying to kill her,' Erik replied simply.

'I'll need to see the document,' Nadir said.

Erik shook his head. 'I'm afraid that's not possible,'

'Why not?'

'We can't open the envelope,' Erik answered. 'It's too dangerous for her,'

Nadir said nothing.

'And besides,' Erik added. 'I have hidden it well,'

'So well that you can't find it yourself?' Nadir smiled.

Erik felt a laugh build in his stomach but he pushed it away, not wanting it to break through, not wanting to feel any part of any happiness. It was all just a little too late for that. 'No, but I have hidden it well enough that I cannot lay my hands straight on it,'

Nadir nodded and leaned back in his seat, leaning his chin on his fingers and looking thoughtful. 'Then I must start with the man you killed,'

'It looks as though it might be the only way,' Erik said.

'I will contact my friend at Scotland Yard,' Nadir explained. 'He will tell me more,'

'And what will you tell him?' Erik asked cautiously.

'Nothing,' Nadir said simply. 'He owes me many a favour,'

Erik nodded, feeling satisfied.

'Is there anything else I should know?' Nadir asked. 'Anyone else you want me to research?'

'Gustav Edmund,'

'What part does he play?' Nadir frowned.

'I don't know yet,' Erik replied thoughtfully. 'But I need to know anything you can find about that name. I'm not convinced it is real but he is the key,'

'Is he friend or foe?'

'I'm as yet undecided,'

The sound of footsteps on the staircase above silenced them and Nadir gave him a quick nod of agreement as Christine and Michelle appeared in the doorway. Christine was now dressed in a long dark dress, not very flattering but Erik feared that to him she would look beautiful wrapped like a mummy.

She saw him staring and scowled back. 'At least I'm dry now,' she snapped.

He said nothing, choosing not to rise to her bait. Instead he glanced down at his own clothes, soaked through and still not drying out very well, even in front of the raging fire. None of the Persian's clothes were likely to fit him, Erik was much taller, and so he was forced to stay in front of the fire and hope that eventually he would dry and he would not catch his death in the process.

Nadir's young maid had already gone back upstairs, undoubtedly to get some sleep. Erik knew that it was late.

'How do you feel?' Nadir asked, watching as Christine moved uncomfortably in her new outfit.

'I'm fine,' she said and then, 'I'll be fine,'

'Perhaps you should sit,' the Persian suggested gently. She stared at him almost blankly for a moment before moving gingerly into the room and taking the seat to the right of the fire and, more importantly, furthest from Erik.

'You've had a long night,' Nadir said. 'There is a bed made up, if you would like to rest your head for a while,'

'I don't think I could sleep,' Christine said, as she stared vacantly into the fire. Orange hues coloured her face, only highlighting her almost perfect bone structure, it warmed her features yet her eyes remained cool. Erik looked away, he did not want to be caught staring.

'You should try,' Nadir's tones were fatherly and when Christine looked up at him Erik saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes. 'The blankets are warm and clean,'

She looked from the Persian to Erik but the glance was brief and when she turned again she nodded.

'Warm by the fire,' Nadir said. 'I'll pour you a warm drink and then show you to your room for the night,'

Erik watched as Nadir walked to the corner of the room where he had placed the pot of tea. He poured it into a cup along with a small sprinkle of white power. He added a little sugar, a tot of whisky and then he stirred it well. When he handed it to her she looked grateful but the strain was beginning to show.

She took a sip and frowned. 'What's in this?'

'I put in a tot of whisky,' Nadir said. 'I though it would help calm you,'

She stared at him suspiciously for a moment, he was, after all, a friend of Erik's and not to be trusted in the slightest. Erik knew this and it made him laugh that she was right to be suspicious of him, even if what he was doing was entirely for her own good.

She took another sip and then another. The warmth of the tea must have beaten the bitter taste and soon the drink was all gone. Nadir took the cup from her and placed it on the table in the centre of the room. The two men watched as Christine's eyes began to droop, she was struggling to keep them open.

After a few seconds of waiting Nadir asked, 'Would you like to go to bed?'

She barely had the energy left to nod her head. A few seconds later her head fell and she was fast asleep. The drug in the tea had done its job and Erik allowed Nadir to lift her from the seat and carry her carefully up the winding staircase, with him following quietly behind. When they got to the spare room he lay her gently on the bed and covered her with the thick blanket.

'She'll thank me for it later,' Nadir said with an ironic smile.

'I'm sure,' Erik said, from the doorway.

Nadir did not linger, after checking that she was comfortable and covered, he closed the curtains and brushed past Erik without another word. Erik heard his feet on the stairs and they got quieter as he made it to the living room.

Erik stood frozen to the spot, staring at the sleeping Christine with a mixture of awe and distress. Her hair had fallen over her cheek and the contrast of it's darkness against the paleness of her alabaster skin almost made his heart cease to beat. He watched her for a long time, her breathing soft and serene, a peace she would lose quickly when she awoke the following morning.

Slowly and reluctantly he moved back from the room and closed the door gently behind him. He knew that loving her was wrong, he knew that it was all too late, that they had done things in the past that could never been erased, but seeing her made his heart pound heavily in his chest. Hearing her…

_To hear her sing again…_

He shook his head and descended the old staircase, wondering what tomorrow would bring for them both.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Forgive me. A close family member was killed in an accident. I haven't felt much like writing. **

**I'm sorry.**

**Chapter 4**

Light had seeped into the bedroom through the small gap between the curtains and had come to rest across Christine's cheek. Her eyes flickered open and it took her a few moments to get her bearings, the room was dim, cast in a brown shade from the dark drapes, and her head felt foggy, almost as if she was battling through fibres to stay awake.

She rolled from her side onto her back and blinked rapidly, trying to focus properly on the room. It took her a while but she slowly remembered the events of the previous evening and one look to her left confirmed what, in her heart, she already knew… _Raoul was gone._

Eventually she summoned some hidden energy and pushed her body up so that she was sitting instead of lying down. She wondered why she didn't remember getting into the bed the night before and felt immediately suspicious of everything and everyone. The bed was soft and warm, even more comfortable than the one she and Raoul shared… _had_ shared… in Berkshire.

Footsteps outside the door made her heart almost stop in her chest and when they stopped outside the door to the room she almost began looking around for a weapon. Despite telling herself that she was being silly, that Erik was downstairs and that no one could harm her, she was not convinced of this until the maid knocked and entered.

'Good morning,' she said and her accent was entirely different to what Christine remembered. Some might expect a maid to sound _common _but Michelle was different and sounded quintessentially English, almost upper-class. 'I've brought you up some toast and some orange juice,'

Christine's head was telling her that she might, _possibly_, be hungry but her stomach disagreed angrily as the smell of the fresh toast crept into the room. Michelle came in and placed the tray on Christine's lap and opened the curtains a little but not fully.

'Is there anything else you need?' the maid asked.

Christine forced a smile, 'No, that's all,' and then she added, 'Thank you,'

Michelle simply nodded and left the room, leaving the door ajar and leaving Christine in to her dark solitude. She took a reluctant bite of the first slice of buttery toast but by the time it was down she was hungrily onto her second and third. She almost felt guilty for wanting to eat, as if Raoul would somehow be disappointed that her stomach could handle it. As she ate she realised that she had never before felt so incredibly hungry.

The apple juice was fresh and cool, if a little stodgy where the apple hadn't been properly crushed, but welcome to her parched throat.

It was a long time before she noticed the shadow in the doorway but the moment of panic she felt evaporated quickly as she realised that it was Erik, with his back to her, keeping guard.

She had been cruel to him the night before but she though he needed to hear the truth from her, so that he was under no illusions… like last time. He had been quite cruel in return and it was almost like a punch to realise that he was only protecting her because her had given his word. It shouldn't matter but it hurt a little to know that he had no feeling for her other than duty now.

She did not want his love but she wanted something, some emotion, they had been through so much.

It was almost as though she wanted him to hate her.

The food gone, she placed the large tray on the table at her bedside. Erik heard the clank of the metal on wood and he turned around, his white mask bright through the gloom.

'How was your breakfast?' he asked, she could make out the sparkle in his eyes even in the dark hallway.

She stared at him for a moment, 'It was fine,'

Erik turned his face away and stood still, staring out into the hallway.

'What time is it?' she asked.

He didn't turn around. 'Nearly half past ten,'

_Had she really slept for that long?_ 'Why didn't you wake me?'

'What for?' he asked, his tone cool.

'I don't like to sleep in late,' she answered, not really knowing what else to say.

'You haven't got anywhere to go,' he said logically. 'You should take the opportunity to be a little bit indulgent,'

'Indulgent?' she asked, exasperated. 'I've just lost my…'

'Yes,' he interrupted without raising his voice. 'I was there,'

'For a moment I was worried you had forgotten,'

Erik turned to face her. 'You have spent too long around servants, Christine,' he said, his voice sharp as a sword. 'It would serve you well to remember that I am not one of them,'

Before she could answer he had pulled the door closed, blocking her view of him. She felt angry and scared, she could not afford to make an enemy of Erik… he was the only reason that she was still alive and she knew it. She hated the fact that she was in some way in debt to him and it angered her, even now, than Roaul had been the one to suggest they contact him.

They should have told Philippe no. They should have made him leave. He had never done anything for them but made Raoul miserable and yet they allowed him to dictate their lives even after he was dead. That stupid envelope had caused so much trouble and she began to wish that she had opened it and read the contents… at least then she might understand.

She swung her legs from the bed, realising for the first time that she was fully clothed from the previous night, and sat on the edge of the mattress. She released a long deep sigh and took a glance at herself in the dressing table mirror. She looked old.

Standing, she stretched her arms above her head, moving her aches and pains from one muscle to another, hoping that eventually they would evaporate from her body altogether. When she reached the door, her hand rested on the handle and she closed her eyes. Sometimes, when she did this, her mind would flit back to the Opera Populaire, to singing and dancing, to old friends… to the Phantom.

To know him only as Erik was a strange feeling for her, since he had not been the Phantom he had lost the magic and power he once had over her. Erik was a man and merely that. He might be an interesting man, incredibly talented, remarkably powerful but he was still a man.

A man and murderer and _that_ was all she could remember.

She opened the door and he turned around, his face was tired but his eyes were alive, as awake and alert as she had ever seen them. His eyes were the beauty in him, the part of him that could show not only his malevolence but his softness. It was one thing she admitted, if only to herself, that Erik possessed that she liked. He had once had a softness with her, a way about him that made her so malleable to him, a gentle kindness that not ever Raoul had held.

'I know you're not a servant,' she said, breaking the cold silence.

He nodded.

'Did you sleep?' she asked. She did not want to sound worried about him, she was worried for herself. She needed him to be completely vigilant.

'A little,'

Which was Erik for_, barely at all._

'How long have you been at my door?' she enquired.

'A few hours,'

'Not all night though?'

'No,' Erik replied. 'Nadir and I took turns.

'Am I not safe here?'

Erik shrugged. 'I don't know yet, it depends if we were followed last night,'

'Do you think that's likely?'

He shook his head. 'I didn't see anyone,'

She nodded, knowing that this was probably good enough but Erik still looked concerned and that worried her very much.

'Did you have breakfast?' she asked.

'You don't have to make conversation with me,' he said sharply. 'I had toast, shortly before you did,'

She blinked and nodded, feeling her anger at him return. She was trying to be nice, attempting to be civil and what was he doing? _Throwing it back in her face._ She brushed past him hard, hoping to knock him off balance slightly but it was no use, he stood firm as if a breeze has whispered across his back.

Like a petulant child and quite ashamed of herself, she stomped onto the staircase and descended, without looking back.

In the living room she found Nadir and Michelle sitting by the fire and she wondered, not for the first time, what the relationship really was between the maid and Nadir. Michelle was first to speak, standing she asked, 'Would you like to wash?'

Christine nodded her head, somehow words had escaped her replaced suddenly with a suffocating sadness, so overwhelming she felt that if she opened her mouth to speak then tears would come to her and they would never stop.

Her heart heavy she followed Michelle into a kitchen type area where Michelle directed her to a bowl of warm water and a bar of soap.

'I will make sure neither of the men come in here while you are washing,' Michelle said gently. 'If you go to the back there are fresh clothes on the table… your friend asked me to buy them for you this morning while you were sleeping,'

Christine stared at her, swallowed hard and said, 'He is not my friend,'

'I see,' Michelle frowned and without saying another word she left Christine with the water and new clothes, alone.

Christine knew that this woman didn't see, couldn't see. How could she possibly understand what was going on? She was sure that Nadir would not have given her the story and therefore the woman was just speaking with no meaning. Over the last few months, Christine had begun to hate that.

She knew that she shouldn't take her anger out on the maid, who had been nothing but kind to her, but she could get no response from Erik no matter what she tried. He saw her anger, she knew that he did, but still he remained his usual stoic self much to her fury.

Slowly she slipped out of her dress and underclothes then dipped her cold hands into the warm water and splashed it over her face. Once clean and dry she dressed in the new clothes Erik had bought for her thinking only that it was another debt she owed him. However much she hated the thought the dress was a pretty cream and a lovely fit, perhaps Michelle had noticed more about her than she had first thought… or perhaps Erik had not changed so much in the years since Paris.

Christine searched around the room until she found the mirror at the back. She checked herself over and, satisfied that she would pass, she slowly wandered back into the living room wondering what she would find there. Michelle was making a drink in the corner of the room, Erik sat next to the fire place which was not roaring as she remembered it being last night. Nadir was gone.

'Where is Nadir?' she asked from the doorway. She felt uncomfortable as both Michelle and Erik turned to face her, she felt under intense scrutiny.

'Out,' Erik answered before Michelle had the chance.

'Where?'

'It is not your business where our host goes in a morning,' Erik said, his voice sharp, edged.

Christine sighed at the rebuke. 'Are we going anywhere?'

'Where would we go?' Erik asked.

'I'm not your prisoner,' she snapped unreasonably.

'Correct,' he said. 'You can leave if you wish, the door is exactly where you left it last night,'

She stood frozen for a moment, feeling stupid yet stubborn. 'Perhaps I will go,'

'Then go,' he said and turned away.

Silence fell into the room and Christine, ashamed and lost, realised that Michelle was staring at her curiously. Slowly, Christine edged into the room and took the seat opposite Erik.

'You know I can't,' she said softly.

He glanced at her but the look was brief. 'You can do whatever you wish,'

'I want you to continue to look after me,' she admitted. 'Until this is over,'

'Then stop questioning my judgement,' he said but there was no anger in his voice, it was quite neutral and she wondered if it bothered her.

'How long will we be here?' she asked.

'As long as it takes,' he replied.

She swallowed. 'I will be bored,'

He didn't look at her but she knew that he had rolled his eyes. 'I would rather you bored than dead, Christine,'

'Thank you,' she said softly.

He glanced back over to her and nodded his head.

It was about as good an acceptance as she was likely to get.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

By the time Nadir arrived back at the house the clock on the mantel was showing nearly six in the evening. Erik was not averse to be holed up in a dark room all day with very little light allowed to creep in through cracks in curtains. He often missed the days where he could descend to his cellar below the Opera Populiare and find peace in the darkness that greeted him there.

Living above ground had its advantages, most of which he couldn't think of right off the top of his head, but living in the dark heightened all of your senses, all feeling. You needed to see not only with your eyes but your ears and smell and touch. He missed the tranquillity of the darkness, something that could never be fully attained living in the regular world.

Christine looked pale, he thought, as she began pacing again from one side of the room to the other, with Michelle watching her curiously. When the door opened and Nadir appeared he looked tired and Erik almost regretting bringing him in on the whole thing. Still, the Persian owed him and after this, Erik would consider the debt absolved.

Michelle was on her feet quickly, taking the Persian's dark coat from him and hanging it behind the door. 'Tea?' she asked and Nadir nodded his head before slumping into the free chair opposite Erik.

'How did it go?' Erik asked.

Nadir took a cautious glance to Christine before answering, 'My friend is going to keep me informed,'

'Did you find anything?' Erik asked.

As Nadir opened his mouth to answer Michelle placed a steaming cup of tea into his hands and he quickly thanked her, taking a sip to warm himself. He glanced up at her as she moved away from him, 'What are we eating for dinner?'

'I have started to cook some beef,' she said. 'It's in the stove, it won't be long now,'

'Take Christine to help you prepare it,' Nadir instructed.

Michelle simply nodded and walked to the kitchen but Christine remained where she was.

'Christine,' Erik said.

'Where have you been?' she asked Nadir.

Nadir stared at her for a long moment, 'Go and help in the kitchen,'

Erik saw a flash of anger cross Christine's eyes as she said, 'I don't take orders from you,'

Before Nadir could answer Erik jumped to his feet and grabbed her arm. When she yelped in pain he winced inside but kept his grip firm. 'While you are here,' he said quietly, into her ear, 'Do as you're told,'

'I won't allo…'

'For Christ's sake Christine, would you grow up and listen,' he snapped, his lips near to her ear as his fingertips dug into her bicep. 'They are doing us a favour, we are endangering them. You are not in Berkshire now so don't behave like a prima donna, those days are _long_ gone,'

She blinked back tears.

'They're not coming back,' he said coldly, feeling his heart ache at the sight of the moisture gathering in the corners of her eyes. 'Go to the kitchen and help Michelle, she was hired to care for Nadir, not you,'

Christine stared at him for a long moment, her eyes defying him every step of the way and he longed for the days where she hung on his every word. There was a passion in her expression, hatred, much deeper than any love she could ever have felt for him and though he would never admit it, it burned him to see it.

Eventually, the look dissolved from her face and she tugged her arm back from his grasp, turning on her heel and stomping into the kitchen with her head held high.

_Yes Christine_, he though, _I know I will never hold you down for long_.

When he turned around Nadir was looking amusedly in his direction. 'What?' he asked, as he took up his seat again.

Nadir placed his hands over the fire to warm them some more. 'She is a handful isn't she?'

Erik forced a smile. 'She is something,'

'Why, Erik?'

Erik glanced at him, feeling the warmth of the fire on the side of his face.

'Why love her?' Nadir clarified but Erik already knew what he was asking.

'How do I answer such a question, Daroga?' he asked in return.

'Honestly,'

'The honest answer is that I don't know,' Erik replied. 'There are many things about her.'

'I'm sure there are many more to dislike,'

This time Erik's smile was more genuine. 'You don't know her well,'

'I know well enough,'

He shook his head at his old friend. 'You know she hurt me, you don't really know how we got there,'

The Persian said nothing but watched carefully.

'You don't know how _her_ voice, to _my_ ears, is heaven itself, when she sings she lifts the stars… makes them bright,' Erik looked at his hands. 'Her eyes, so full of life and passion and everything I want for myself. Her soul, brave and strong…'

'And stubborn,'

Erik looked back up 'And wonderful,'

He meant it. He knew that she was petulant and spoilt, he knew that she often behaved like a child, that she somehow thought that the world revolved around her but he also knew how gentle she was, how she could sing, how vulnerable and true and honest she was.

'Then love her,' Nadir shrugged his wide shoulders. 'But be prepared,'

'I am prepared,' Erik said, a little sharply. 'I won't ever tell her, I won't ever let her know it,'

Nadir lifted his eyebrows. 'How will you stop yourself?'

'I have done up to now, haven't I?'

He nodded.

'Then don't question me,' he sighed. 'She hates me,'

Nadir chuckled. 'Many do, my friend,'

'Not so much,'

'Perhaps,'

Erik wanted to change the subject, he needed to move on from this and so abruptly he said, 'What did you find?'

'My friend at the Yard told me that two bodies were found,' Nadir explained, in hushed tones with occasional glances towards the kitchen door where the welcoming smell of cooking snuck in. 'One they have already identified as Raoul,'

'But the other?'

'No such luck as yet,'

Erik nodded solemnly, knowing the importance of finding out who the man was.

'My friend will keep me informed,' Nadir said. 'They think that the two shootings were done by the same person,'

Erik laughed at this. 'Yes, they would,'

'Where is the gun?'

'Gone,'

'Where?'

'It is gone,'

Nadir nodded, he knew when to trust Erik.

'They are looking for Christine,'

'As the shooter?'

Nadir shrugged. 'More as a potential victim at the moment but without finding her she is become more and more of a suspect,'

'What do you think, Daroga?'

'I think she's already a suspect, really, according to my friend,'

'How so?'

'There were no signs of struggle, Raoul had not been beaten… as you know,'

Erik nodded his head.

'So they assume, wrongly, that both men were led out there by someone they trusted,'

Erik laughed again. 'And not at gunpoint,'

'Apparently not,'

'And their theory?'

'Christine was having a rather illicit affair with the man you shot,'

'Why would she shoot them both?'

'Who knows?' Nadir asked. 'Some policemen are lazy, you know?'

'I know,'

'It is why they never caught you,' Nadir let out a laugh.

'I was too good for them,'

'Yes,' Nadir grinned. 'That too,'

'So Christine is a suspect,'

Nadir's grin widened, 'But you didn't hear it from me,'

'I suppose it makes a change from me being the usual suspect, doesn't it?'

'Certainly does,' Nadir said. 'Must feel a little strange though,'

Erik smiled. 'Yes, every once in a while I do miss the spotlight,'

'I quite enjoyed it too,' Nadir said, a twinkle in his eyes. 'The newspapers were certainly imaginative in their descriptions of you,'

'Very true,' Erik said, the memories all flooding back into his mind.

'You're welcome to stay here for as long as you need to,' Nadir said, after a long moment of silence.

'Thank you,'

'I mean it,' Nadir reiterated. 'I don't know how long it will be until I have any information for you,'

Erik nodded. 'The longer we stay here the more danger we put you in,'

'That never seemed to bother you before,'

'You chose to bring the boy into the cellars,' Erik reminded him playfully.

Nadir conceded this with a brief nod of the head and a lift of his eyebrows. 'Stay,'

The smell of food distracted them both and Nadir smiled broadly as Michelle entered the room to tell them that their dinner was ready. Erik had never needed to eat much, lately he had lost most of his appetite altogether, however, the smell of the cooked beef was too much to resist and both men headed into the kitchen where Christine was just finished setting the table.

They took their seats at opposite ends of the table as Nadir invited Michelle to eat with them, which didn't surprise Erik in the slightest. The food tasted as good as it smelt but Erik was soon full, eating very little as he usually did. The sight of Christine pushing the beef around her plate with the fork in her hand only made his heart heavier.

'Aren't you hungry?' he asked her.

Her dark eyes lifted and gazed upon him. 'Not really,' she replied, before taking a small morsel of potato onto her fork and forcing herself to eat it. When she looked back up at him she asked, 'Aren't you?'

'I've eaten some,' he answered without glancing down at his plate.

Nadir smiled at Michelle and said, 'The gravy is wonderful,'

She blushed pink and took another mouthful of the meat.

'I think I'll retire to bed,' Christine said standing from the table.

Both Nadir and Erik stood as well.

'Aren't you feeling well?' Nadir asked with a surprising amount of concern in his voice.

'Tired,' she answered bluntly. 'Excuse me,'

She didn't wait for anyone to respond as she left her almost full plate on the table and walked out of the kitchen door. Nadir glanced at Erik, lifting his eyebrows, but Erik didn't respond, instead he took another forkful of food and tried not to think about Christine at all.

There was nothing he could do for her now, nothing more than he was already doing and she would just have to deal with her grief in her own way. Erik did not want to be her shoulder to cry on, her rock and she did not want that from him. All that she wanted was to live and all that he wanted to do was make sure that she did. He did not think he could bear her tears, see her cry for the man she had loved above him.

In the months he had been around her again she had not shown him an ounce of compassion nor a moment of forgiveness… she had shown him less concern than Raoul had. The thought only made the whole situation seem a little worse to him, made him hurt a little more.

'Are you going to check on her?' Nadir asked, finally bringing him out of his thoughts.

'When we're done here, I will go and stand guard at the door,' Erik answered, taking a sip of the whisky that Nadir had kindly provided.

'She might need some comfort,' Nadir said quietly.

Erik looked over at him. 'She won't get that from me,'

Nadir nodded a sort of agreement but Erik saw the glint of something in his eyes. The Persian knew the Phantom better than he thought.

'I'll sleep down here again,' Nadir suggested. 'Watch the front door while you watch the bedroom?'

Erik nodded.

'It's getting late,' Nadir prompted. 'Perhaps now would be a good time,'

Instead of dismissing the suggestion Erik sighed and rose to his feet, excusing himself to Michelle before making his way out of the room and up the staircase. When he got to the bedroom door he thought about what Nadir had said about Christine needing comfort.

He gently tapped the door with his knuckles and when there was no answer he opened it carefully. She was in the bed with her back to the door, facing the window, her body had the slow rise and fall motion of someone soundly asleep but Erik knew better. Sleep would not come easily to Christine for a long time.

Satisfied that she was safe he closed the door carefully and sat on the chair to the right of the bedroom door. He leaned back and ignored the impulses within him. The ones telling him to help her.

He was already helping her and she would not appreciate his comfort, she had made that quite clear. And so he did what he had done for the last few months.

He sat in silence and listened carefully. If she was in danger, he would be there, but he would not fall to the sound of her tears.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Erik never tried to comfort her, he never encroached on her privacy, he allowed her to have her own space. Even three days later when he heard her, for the first time, sobbing uncontrollably in the bedroom. He still kept watch, was vigilant but he didn't go inside to offer his wisdom, he did not attempt to wrap her up in his arms… even though it pained him deeply to hear her cry.

The days past by them slowly and he could tell that Christine was starting to feel more and more suffocated. They had been living with Nadir for two weeks. Even Erik would admit that they had been long weeks and so he could hardly imagine how Christine felt, although she had taken to telling him with increasing frequency.

On the fifteenth morning at the house Christine opened the bedroom door and announced that she was no longer afraid and that she was going to go out. Erik did not blame her for craving her freedom, he knew how it felt to be caged, but she was in danger. It was on the same day that Nadir announced that Christine De Changy was now the only suspect in the double murder out by the Thames.

'I don't care,' Christine said definitely.

'They think that you killed your husband my dear,' Nadir explained patiently. 'They think you killed _him_ and that you killed your _lover_,'

'I didn't,' she said.

'_We_ know that,' Nadir nodded his head. 'The police don't, the press don't,'

Erik heard the caution in his voice and looked at him. 'Show me the paper,'

Nadir sighed and handed him the London Post. Erik shrugged his shoulders. The headline was that she was now being sought as the suspected murderer in a love tangle that had gone disastrously wrong. If it had not been for the fact that information in the paper like that was likely to get Christine arrested, he would find it quite funny.

Christine snatched the newspaper from his hands.

'How can they say these things?' she asked aloud but Erik knew that she was talking to herself. She slumped into the armchair in the corner of the room, staring at the front page of the paper and shaking her head defiantly. 'It's ridiculous,'

Erik agreed entirely.

'Where do they even get that theory?' she asked, louder this time.

Nadir shook his head.

'I have killed no one,' she threw the paper down and it crumpled against the leg of the chair next to her. 'I should tell them,'

'Don't be a fool,' Erik said simply.

'They will just continue to suspect me,' she argued and then added, quietly, 'Pursue me,'

'And what if you hand yourself over?' Erik asked, a little sharply too sharply and Nadir glanced up at him with dark eyes warning him to be cautious.

'I can explain,'

'Explain what, exactly?' Erik snapped, too astonished to keep his temper in check.

'That I am in danger,'

Erik laughed and it was Nadir who, softly, offered, 'They're not likely to be believe you,'

Christine glared at him, as if he had been caught trying to grope her or doing something equally uncouth.

'My dear,' he said. 'They have made up their minds I'm afraid and with no information to give them about your pursuers what hope do you have that they will believe you?'

She didn't respond and after a long moment of tense silence Erik said, 'You would have to hand me over for the murder of the second man,'

She stared at him long and hard and then, with venom that he thought was long gone from her system, said, 'I would do it in a heartbeat,'

Erik had had enough, his fierce temper flared almost uncontrollably as he leapt to his feet, grabbed her firmly by the wrist and dragged her from her chair. She cowered foolishly, as though she though he might hit her, but he ignored the fear on her face and pulled her roughly to the front door. Letting go of her arm he threw her an overcoat from the coat hook behind him, opened the door and threw her out.

'Go to the police,' Erik snarled. 'From now on, you're on your own,'

She blinked up at him but did not back down. Clutching the coat to her chest she fixed him with a tough stare and said, 'So much for you being a man of your word,'

Equally as sharply Erik said, 'It wasn't part of the deal,'

Momentarily confused Christine stared at him, 'What wasn't?'

'That I would be forced to deal with your abuse,' with that he turned around, headed back into the house and slammed the door shut in her face.

* * *

Christine was filled with rage as she stomped away from the alleyway tugging the large coat over her shoulders to keep her warm in the pouring rain.

_How dare he_? Her mind raged on with thoughts of what she would do to him if she saw him again. Her anger so intense that it distracted her and it was a while before she noticed that there was a man following her along the road heading into the centre of London. In seconds the man was gone though, and she chastised herself for being so paranoid.

She would go to the police, Nadir knew nothing anymore, and she would explain to them that she was in grave danger and that she needed their protection. The police could ask her friends about her relationship with Raoul. They would tell the officers how dearly she loved her husband, how she would never do anything hurt him, let alone kill him in cold blood.

Glancing back behind her to check she noticed the shape of a man ducking in and out of the people going in the other direction. She knew that she was probably being foolish and that it was unlikely that someone had chanced on her in the street, but she erred on the side of caution and made sure to stay with the crowds of people.

As she approached the town centre shops sprung up around her, market stalls began to materalise in the distance and the density of the crowd thickened until she could barely see anything around her. Oddly, this actually made her feel safer. No one would do anything to her while there were so many people around who could obstruct them or witness the incident.

Although the rain was streaming down it was light in the sky and it had not stopped the daily hustle and bustle of London. Christine had little doubt that in an hour or two the sun would appear and though it would probably still be cold at least it would be brighter. As she headed into the market centre, stall holders tried to get her attention and eventually she stopped at a small stall selling fresh fruit.

The smell was unbelievably good, over powering the waft from the Thames and tempting her in to buy an apple. The gentleman at his counter smiled warmly and attempted to make conversation. Christine felt buoyed that there was still normality around her, things were continuing, people walked and talked and shopped and worked… things had not changed, the world had not stopped and though her heart felt smaller than it once was, she was at least alive.

Smiling at the man behind the counter she took a bite from her apple and let the tang of its flavour fill her mouth until she actually closed her eyes and sighed.

It felt so good to be out in open air, to feel the wind and rain, to see the sky and its clouds, to breath in the freshness and eat apples in the cobbled streets. She continued to walk along, this time taking her time so that she could look at the market stalls along the way. She was now no longer sure of where she was going, thinking that just wandering the street was doing enough to make her feel alive again.

Raoul entered her mind and she pictured his smiling face, the way he looked at her with an affection she had never seen before. Sadness ran through her quickly and she suddenly realised that no matter how normal the streets of London looked, they would probably never be the same again.

She walked to the next stall and felt a sharp pain in her side, before an arm encircled her waist and began pulling her out of the crowd and towards an alleyway. She tried to fight back but her side was hurting badly.

Rough hands fought to keep hold of her and the nearer she was pulled to the alley the more she realised that she had made a horrible mistake. She managed to turn her body and get a glance at the man forcing her away from the market stalls. It was the man that she had spotted following her earlier and she knew that now she was likely to die… she had nothing for him, no information to give him and had lost the energy to cry out for help.

She wanted to scream. She knew that she should but every time she tried, pain shot through her and all she could do was steel herself against it.

Doomed she felt herself being dragged to the entrance of the alley and she simply closed her eyes and waited for Raoul to come into view again. But Raoul did not appear and she did not get dragged into the alley.

As they neared it she heard her attacker yelp in pain and a clatter as he dropped something to the ground. No longer being held by him she managed to stagger back towards the centre of the street. Swallowing hard she glanced, blurry eyed, down at her side.

Her dress was soaked bright red at her waist and the pain was beginning to worsen as though she had been burned. She touched her side with the palm of her hand and felt the warm, stickiness of her own blood. Weakened by the sight and by her pain she fell to her knees, dizziness taking over her senses and barely able to keep her eyes open.

'Help,' she murmured trying to look around her.

No one came to her aid. Most people did not even notice and the ones that did simply stared in confusion.

'Help,' she said again, but the sound was no louder. A wave of nausea hit her and she closed her eyes again, clutching at her side.

She wondered where her attacker was and if he was coming back to finish the job. From her knees she fell down further until she was lying on the cold, wet cobbles, now unable to open her eyes she finally gave up.

Let death come, at least she would be with Raoul again.

Hands gripped her firmly and lifted her from the ground. At first she thought that her assailant had found her on the floor but as she was lifted she knew that this was not the case.

Arms hooked under her carefully and carried her away.

Still, she didn't have strength to open her eyes but she knew that perhaps there was a small chance that she would survive now. She heard very little as they moved swiftly along the road but she felt his arms, she smelt his skin, she knew that she was safe for now.

Death had not come for her but instead had sent an angel to scoop her up and return her to shelter.

The angel had a name and always had.

She had been wrong.

_So wrong. _

The angel was Erik.

She was safe


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: To answer a few questions: Christine has always been confused about her feelings for Erik but the hate she feels stems from being so young and confused by him back in Paris. There is more to their relationship and as I said in the authors note in the first chapter, is this predominantly a love story. I'm trying to make this story more about their character development than about the mystery (which will be solved later in the story)**

**It won't be an easy ride and just because it is a love story does not necessarily mean that there will be a happy ending… it doesn't mean that there won't either!**

**Thank you for reviews, I will (as always) try to respond to each individually as soon as I have the time. **

**Chapter 7**

'What happened?'

Erik lay Christine on the bed as he looked around frantically for a cloth. 'I need water… _hot_ water and clean towels,'

Michelle scurried away and Nadir asked again. 'What happened, Erik?'

'She was attacked,' he said as he reached down and brushed the hair away from Christine's rain soaked forehead. She felt cold and clammy all at the same time and he fought away the panic that he felt building up through his stomach.

'Erik…' she murmured. Erik dropped to his knees by the bed and leaned towards her.

'It's alright, Christine,' he said as softly as he could, touching her hand briefly with his.

'Am I home?' she asked weakly.

'We're with Nadir,'

She coughed and the winced, 'How bad is it?'

Michelle ran into the room with a bowl of warm water and two clean cloths. He took them from her and placed them on the floor by the side of the bed.

'I don't know yet,' he said gently. 'You've lost some blood…'

He stared down at her cream dress marbled red and pink by her own blood.

'I need to…' He swallowed hard. 'I need to tear your dress so that I can see your wound,'

She didn't respond.

'Is that alright?' he asked urgently.

She managed to nod and he quickly, but carefully, tore a strip away from the side of her dress. The wound was mercifully small but she was weakened and the blood she had lost was irreplaceable. Erik knew that they needed to stem the bleeding as quickly as they could, if she lost too much blood then she would die.

He couldn't let that happen.

How could he live knowing that she was gone?

He dipped the first cloth into the warm water and began to gently clean the blood away from the wound at her side. Nadir leant over and stared at the gash.

'Can you sew, Daroga?' Erik asked, glancing up at him. 'We need to close the wound,'

Nadir sighed. 'It's been a long time… but yes,'

'No,' Christine said. 'No,'

'Christine we need to sew your wound,' Erik turned to Michelle. 'We'll need steam to sterilise the needle… I believe I read that somewhere…Nadir get a needle and thread, whatever you need to use,'

Without question they both fled the room and he could hear them clattering around, doing as he had asked. Erik was usually so calm… even faced with his own death he could remain cool but this was different, this was Christine.

'Erik,' she whispered.

He glanced at her face, so _pale_…

'I won't let him…'

Erik frowned, 'What?'

'You do it,'

'Stitch your wound?'

She nodded, swallowed.

'I can't, Christine,' he said as gently as he could. His heart was pounding hard and he could barely hear her when she spoke so quietly but he knew that he needed to concentrate, to keep her calm. 'I don't know how,'

'Let him talk you through,'

'If I do it wrong…'

'You won't,' she said. 'I want you to do it Erik, I only trust you,'

He stared at her face, the colour drained from it, and sighed deeply. It was possibly the nicest thing that Christine had said to him in a very long time but the thought of getting something wrong actually frightened him.

Nadir ran back into the room closely followed by Michelle with a bowl of steaming water.

'Erik…'

'She doesn't want you to do it, Nadir,' Erik said.

'I understand.' Nadir returned and Erik wondered if that were actually true. The Persian handed Erik the needle and shrugged his shoulders. 'Your hands only, her saviour,'

Erik wasn't really sure what he meant but didn't have time to decipher it. He took the needle and thin thread, holding both over the steam and almost burning his hands in the process. He glanced at Nadir, 'What do I do?'

As Nadir talked him through the process he spoke gently to Christine. She winced and squeezed her eyes closed but not once did she yell out. When he was done, Nadir checked the wound over and nodded his head in approval. 'It looks fine,'

Erik breathed a silent sigh of relief and got to his feet. 'Do you have some juice and sweet tea that she can drink?' he asked Michelle. 'She will need to keep her energy up,'

Again Michelle left the room to carry out her task without question. Nadir was leaning against the door frame watching Erik carefully. 'She'll be alright,' he said.

Erik looked back at him but didn't say anything. Instead he turned his attention again to Christine, whose skin was worryingly pale and still clammy. 'How do you feel?' he asked.

'Stupid,' she answered, without opening her eyes.

'Are you warm enough?'

She shook her head. 'It's cold today,'

'Do you want to take your dress off and get into your night clothes?' Erik asked.

Her throat moved slightly as she struggled to swallow. 'Yes,'

'Come Nadir,' he said and turned to leave.

Christine's voice stopped him. 'I will need help,'

'I'll get Michelle,' Erik said.

'No, I only trust you,' she repeated.

He sighed and nodded at Nadir, who turned his back and clicked the door closed behind him, leaving Erik and Christine alone in the room.

'Are you sure about this?' Erik asked, standing in a sort of nowhere land in the middle of the room, halfway between the door and Christine.

She nodded weakly and finally opened her eyes so that they fixed on him. 'I need you to help me,'

He walked over, trying to look more confident than he felt, a feat in itself considering the trembling he felt in his hands. By the time he was at her side she had pushed herself up awkwardly to the edge of the bed.

_So pale._

'What do…' he took a breath. 'How do you want to do this?'

'Help me stand,' she said, chocolate eyes wide with pain and fear.

He wanted to close his eyes and shut the sight of her beauty out of his mind forever. His arms reached out with very little in way of instruction from his brain. She gripped his forearms firmly and used them to pull herself to her feet. When up she wobbled slightly but managed to steady herself and turned around so that her back was to him.

'I need you to…'

He knew, gently he took each button carefully and undid them until the final button at the very bottom of her back was open. She had her hands up on her shoulders, making sure that the dress didn't fall down at the front.

'Help me slip out,' she said, her back still to him.

Uncomfortably he moved closer and ran his hands along the arms of her dress, pulling them down until they were around her hands. She pulled them off herself and let the dress fall to the floor around her feet. When she stepped out of it he turned his head away.

'My underclothes have blood on them,' she said softly, the sound of tears entering her voice.

'Can you get them off yourself?' he asked.

'I can take them off but I need you to stop me from falling,' she replied and then added. 'That means you'll need to at least look in my general direction,'

He turned around and stood behind her again as she slipped out of her underclothes. She staggered forward slightly and he reached out, hands on her hips, steadying her.

'If there is a greater being He will strike me down for this,' Erik mused.

'If there is a greater being He might just forgive all of your past sins for this,' she corrected softly as she placed her hand on the post of the bed to hold herself upright. 'Could you get me my nightgown, please, it's on the back of the chair?'

He looked around and located to the gown, handing it to her while he looked in the other direction. She giggled, in spite of her pain. 'I thought you had seen me naked before?'

'No,' he said, a little too bluntly. 'I never spied on you while you were changing, Christine, I never would,'

'It sounds so strange,' she said. 'Hearing you so… _moral_,'

'Thank you,' his tone laced with sarcasm.

'Don't be that way,'

He heard her wince as she struggled into the nightdress. 'You can look now,' she said. 'I'm decent,'

He tried not to smile.

'How do you feel?' he asked.

'Tired,'

'How is your side?'

'Very painful,' she replied, touching it with her fingertips. She took a step towards the bed but lost her balance and tumbled, twisting until Erik caught her in his arms and pulled her up and into him.

'Be careful,' he chastised, frustrated with her for being so foolish until he realised that she had slipped her arms around his waist and was resting her head against his chest.

'Don't tell me off, Erik,' she whimpered. 'I feel so sick, so dizzy,'

He lifted her into him arms and placed her back carefully on the bed, making sure there was no blood and finally pulling the covers over her gently.

'You need to rest,' he said.

'I'm sorry,'

He stared at her. 'What for?'

'For being such an idiot,' she shook her head and squeezed the tears from her eyes. 'Such a god damned idiot,'

He didn't respond. Instead he allowed himself to look at her, the paleness of her skin was so bad she was almost green. Her hair was wet and matted, her eyes a little duller but she was still lovely, still beautiful to him.

'Don't worry,' he said finally. 'I'll let you sleep,'

She looked down at her hands which were resting on top of the blanket.

'I'll be right outside the door if you need me,' he explained. 'We need to keep an eye on the stitching, hope that it doesn't become infected, but I think as long as you look after yourself, you'll be fine,'

He got to the door before he heard her crying.

_Don't turn around…_

'I'm sorry for being the way I have been,' she said through her tears.

He turned to face her, despite the voice in his head telling him otherwise. Her eyes were looking right at him, large and earnest.

'It was unfair,'

He didn't know what to say to her. An apology was the last thing he was expecting.

'I don't hate you,' she said softly, eyes sparkling with tears. 'I did… for a long time but… I don't anymore,'

'Good to know,' he said without feeling.

'I would never hand you in to the police, Erik,' she sighed. '_Never_. You have saved my life too many times for me to betray you that way,'

'Its fine, Christine,' he reassured her.

'It isn't fine though, Erik, it isn't,' a sob caught in her throat. 'I miss Raoul, I miss him so much but I know you tried, even for him you tried,'

He looked at his feet.

'We were friends once,' she said softly. 'You and I, weren't we?'

He nodded but his heart was tearing. She was more than a friend to him, more than anything to him, she always had been. To her he would always be the angel who rescued her, the friend to save her when she was in trouble. She would never love him.

'Can't we be that again?' she asked. 'Can we try?'

'I am your friend, Christine,' he said. 'That's why I followed you from the house earlier,'

'I'm sorry about today,' she laughed through her tears, a bitter, harsh laugh. 'I'm sorry for bloody everything,'

'Stop it,' Erik said, looking back at her. 'We can try to be friends again, you've… you've done nothing wrong,'

She blinked.

'_Nothing_,'

She nodded.

'I'll be outside the door,'

'I'm scared,'

'I'm right there,' he said. 'Right outside the door,'

'Stay in here tonight,' she swallowed. 'Bring the chair in, I'll feel much safer if I can see you,'


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I will reply to my reviews, I promise!**

**Thank you all.**

**Chapter 8**

Christine woke with a start, sitting up straight too quickly and then feeling a sharp stabbing pain in her side. For a brief and blissful moment she had forgotten the events of the previous day, forgotten that Raoul was gone, forgotten that she was being hunted, forgotten… Erik…

She glanced to her left where Erik was sitting facing the door, his head tilted to one side. For a moment she actually thought he had stayed awake all night but as she watched him she realised that there was a gentle and peaceful rise and fall to his chest.

He was sleeping.

There was a little light peeping in through the gap in the curtains telling her that it was morning but not particularly late. She glanced down at her side which was throbbing but clean and dry. There had been no bleeding in the night and she was pleased that Erik had managed to mend her wound.

He was worried about infection and she was not.

Her foolishness the day before had nearly ended in her death.

Now she knew that Erik really was the only person who could help her.

He stirred and turned his head to the side, even in the dimness of the room, the blue in his eyes pierced the blackness, so clear and bright that she could see them perfectly.

'Good morning,' he said and she could not ever detect the hint of sleep in his voice.

'Did you sleep well?' she asked.

He nodded but she knew it was a lie. The chair he had slept on was cramped and his neck was undoubtedly sore. 'It's you I'm worried about,' he said. 'How did you sleep?'

'Very well, actually,' she smiled a little. 'I must have been completely exhausted,'

He nodded.

'I didn't even have any bad dreams…' she thought about that for a moment. Would she even know if she had? She rarely remembered her dreams and when she did she was often thankful for the times when she didn't.

'Good,' he pushed himself to his feet and if he was aching he didn't show it. 'I'll give you some privacy,'

She nodded her head and watched as he walked from the room and closed the door quietly behind him. As it shut she got a gentle waft of bacon cooking and for the first time in a couple of weeks she actually felt hungry.

She dressed gingerly, still feeling the effects of the day before, and walked down the stairs, being careful to hold onto the railing as she did. When she walked into the living room its three occupants looked up at her curiously.

It was Erik who broke the silence. 'You should have called down to me,'

'I'm fine,' she said but her side gave a twinge just to remind her that she was still injured and had not been miraculously cured over night.

'You're unsteady on your feet,' he said.

She glanced down at her feet instinctively and as soon as she did she wobbled sideways and grabbed the shelf to steady herself. 'Maybe you're right,'

Erik actually smiled as he stood and helped her to the seat nearest to the fire. She placed her head back against the soft cushion and closed her eyes briefly, wondering when the last time was that she had noticed Erik with a genuine smile on his face.

There was something oddly endearing about Erik's smile, she remembered it so vividly over the years. It was actually something she liked about him. _Bright eyes and rather a boyish smile_. It was a rare occurrence and so when it happened she would often mark the time in her mind

Nadir was watching them both with his usual dark curiosity, there was always a smile threatening on the Persian's lips and she wondered whether she and Erik could truly trust him. Although she knew that Erik and Nadir had been friends for many years and that Erik had once saved the ex-police chief's life, there was something about Nadir that made her decidedly uncomfortable.

His eyes were always imploring and though they were friendly enough there was enough morbid interest shining in them to make her uneasy. Erik never seemed to notice and so Christine would tell herself that it was her imagination, especially as Erik was possibly the best judge of character she knew, but still when Nadir was around she felt an urge to be nearer to Erik.

It was Nadir who spoke next, 'I have some news,' he said.

'Since last night?' Erik asked, looking sceptical.

The Persian nodded slowly and Christine's attention peaked as she stared at him with a renewed interest.

'I don't know what it means,' Nadir continued.

'Tell us the news,' she said, a little too sharply. 'And we'll attempt to interpret it,'

If Nadir had taken any offence to Erik's prickly tone then he didn't show it and simply said, 'The man you killed was called William Astworth,'

'How did you find out?' Christine asked.

'A friend,' was his cryptic response but Erik seemed to understand.

'What else do you know, Daroga?' Erik asked.

'Well, this is the strange bit,' Nadir said. 'It would appear that he works closely with one of the palace guards,'

Erik looked up quickly and stared at Nadir. 'How does your friend know this?'

'A relative reported him missing and identified the body around a week ago,'

'Why didn't he tell you immediately?'

'He had taken leave for a week,'

'So he has only just discovered the development himself?' Christine asked.

Nadir nodded. 'He came by late last night and informed me,'

Erik let out a sigh. 'The relative gave them the information about the royal guard?'

'Yes,' Nadir answered, 'She told the police that her brother, William, had long been friends with a man called Robert Davis who guarded the palace and sometimes the prince,'

'Which prince?'

Nadir smiled. 'The heir,'

Erik lifted his eyebrows. 'Well, that might complicate matters slightly,'

Christine couldn't really fathom what she was hearing. She could not make head nor tail of it and the confusion was only set to get worse.

Erik took a sip of the drink that had been resting on the table next to him. 'Does your friend think that this William Astworth was acting on behalf of the guard… or the prince?'

Nadir laughed. 'The police still see Christine as the prime suspect so in answer to your question, no, they just think that the whole love affair was far more sordid that they first imagined,'

'Aren't they investigating other angles at all?' Christine asked, shocked.

Nadir shrugged. 'From what my friend tells me; you are their one and only suspect at present,'

Erik was nodding, 'Of course, they wouldn't want to upset any of the royals by accusing any of their guards or the prince of anything untoward,'

'An affair is not untoward?' Christine jumped in.

Erik glanced at her and shook his head, 'If they think that you had an affair with Astworth then there isn't really an issue in regards to the royal family, is there?'

Christine felt hot and confused and instead of answering Erik she simply stared at him.

'What I'm trying to say is that the police don't believe you were having an affair with the guard, Davis, or with the prince, and therefore what has happened does not involve the royals,'

Nadir nodded in agreement, 'If they start to look at the possibility that you did not kill William and Raoul then they must start asking questions about how one of a royals guards closest allies was found dead barely half a mile from another dead body,'

Christine began to understand what they were saying, 'They'll never believe me will they?'

Erik's eyes softened as he stared at her and for a moment she thought she saw the glint of admiration in them that she once did back in Paris. As quickly as it was there it was gone but Erik's eyes remained gentle. 'Someday…'

She let the weight of that one word settle on her shoulders and felt the familiar bristle of tears sting her eyes. Blinking once she forced the tears away and stared back at Erik. 'Then we have to go…'

Erik nodded.

'We have to run,'

He nodded again.

'No,' she said. 'No, not we... _me_… I… I have to run,'

'We,' Erik corrected.

'You've done enough,' she said softly.

'I made a promise,'

'And you have kept it,' she said, feeling a sharp pain in her side, reminding her once again that she was wounded, could have been killed. 'I'm releasing you from your contract,'

Erik stared at her for a long time before smiling, 'Who said that it is up to you when I am released from my contract?'

'I…'

'There is no contract anymore, Christine,' his tone was so soft it felt like cotton for her ears. She almost wanted to wrap herself away in it and never return. 'There is only my promise as your friend that I will look after you… I intend to keep my promise,'

She knew that she should protest further, she knew that this was no longer Erik's battle, but she did not. Instead she nodded her head and allowed herself a small, sad smile.

'You'll need to rest for a while first,' Erik looked from her to Nadir. 'Can we stay until she is healed?'

'If you think it's safe to stay then you're welcome to,' Nadir nodded.

'What do you think it means?' Christine asked him.

Nadir shrugged his broad shoulders. 'I really don't know,'

'Do you think this William was working on behalf of a royal?' she asked.

'It's entirely possible, my dear,' Nadir replied.

'How would Raoul know him?' Christine asked.

This question was met with a shrug from the Persian and Christine felt a spark of fear ignite in her stomach. If there was royalty involved then what chance did they have? She was right, they would have to run and fast, get as far away from England as possible. The police would never believe them and even if they did, they would never challenge a prince.

Erik walked to her seat. 'You should go back to bed,'

'I'm fine,'

'You're pale,'

'I'm always pale,'

Erik's smile returned. 'Not always a pale green though,'

She looked down at her hands, almost embarrassed that she was ill and that Erik had seen it so readily. Her side was aching badly and her head was spinning. Too much too soon was the phrase that sprang to mind and Erik and Nadir helped her carefully to her feet.

Erik followed her up the stairs in case she fell and when she nearly did, he placed a firm hand on her back to keep her upright. Once they were at her bedroom she staggered to the bed and collapsed on it carefully. She almost asked Erik to help her undress again but she decided to try it alone.

While she changed he stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him, probably listening carefully just in case she lost her footing. When she was changed and under the covers she called him back in.

His face was set like stone, his eyes hard once again but not with anger. He was pale himself. Worry, perhaps?

'Are you alright?' he asked.

She felt out of breath but lied anyway, 'Tired maybe but I feel fine,'

He knew it was a lie, she could see that in his eyes, but he didn't challenge her, instead he pulled the chair to the side of the bed and sat down. 'Are you hungry?'

'No,' she said. If she was completely honest she felt sick and dizzy and food was the furthest thing from her thoughts.

He leaned in towards her, pulling the blanket up slightly so that it covered her shoulders. 'It's going to be cold all day,' he said softly. 'You need to rest… do you understand that?'

She felt a pang of anger at him for asking her such a question but she shook it away in the knowledge that he was only trying to do what was best for her.

'I understand,'

'Don't get out of bed unless strictly necessary,' he said.

She nodded.

'I'll make sure that you have plenty of boiled water, hot tea and juice,' he explained quietly. 'I'll ask Michelle to leave some fruit for you in case you get hungry,'

'How long do I have to stay in bed for?' she asked.

'Around a week,' he replied.

'A week?'

He nodded. 'I need you well, healed and rested,'

'Will this heal in a week?'

He shrugged. 'Probably not but it's not too deep, most of the pain will be gone and you should be better on your feet by then,'

'Is that when we leave?' she asked.

He nodded. 'We can't hang around any longer than necessary,'

'Alright,' she said softly, wondering how either of them was going to survive this. She looked into his eyes, 'We're in a lot more danger than we first thought aren't we?'

'What makes you say that?' he asked but she knew it and so did he.

'I have a feeling,' she said. 'It's true, isn't it?'

'I'd say so, yes,'

She thought about the man in the street, she thought about Erik's help, about him tending to her and watching over her and then she said, 'I'll stay in bed, I'll rest,'

'Don't tell anyone when we're leaving,' he warned.

'Why not?'

He shook his head. 'I don't know,'

'There must be a reason…'

He cut her off. 'Something doesn't feel right, I can't really explain it but from now on it's just the two of us, yes?'

'Yes,'

He placed his hand over hers which was under the blanket but still felt the warmth of his touch. It was a gesture of affection she rarely saw from him and she didn't remember him ever being so warm before. All she remembered was that his fingers were once cold, thin sticks. Now they were warm and fleshy _and welcoming_.

Even when she was with Raoul she could not feel as safe as she did when she had been around Erik. Their friendship had ended but her memory of the security he provided her had remained strong in her mind. Now her anger at him was gone she saw only the friend she had once lost.

The friend she was determined never to lose again.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Taking all sorts of liberties with Greater London here... it was more more built up and populated than I will probably make out... forgive me, it's the artist in me breaking out.**

Much to Christine's surprise, the next few days past by quickly and by the sixth day after she was attacked she was feeling a lot better and the pains in her side had slowly reduced to a dull ache. All of the dizziness had completely subsided and all that she was left with was a slight lack of appetite.

Every night Erik had slept uncomfortably on the chair, which he moved to just inside the door. Michelle and Nadir had been kind, Michelle brought juice, boiled water and fresh fruit, Nadir kept them up to date with his findings and brought them newspapers.

Christine was not to leave the room and therefore the only time Erik did was when she needed to wash or change her bed clothes. He had been quite kind, although occasionally he would drift off into a despondent silence from which even Nadir had difficulty bringing him back.

She was still in bed on the sixth evening when Nadir came in with a bowl of fruit for her and a plate of toast for Erik. Erik eyed him with what could have past for suspicion but the Persian simply laughed and handed him the plate.

'You should eat,' Nadir told him. 'It's not only Christine who must keep her strength up,'

Erik nodded and took the plate, balancing it on his lap.

'Michelle has washed all of your clothes,' Nadir explained. 'For when you leave,'

'Thank you,' Erik said, taking a bite from one slice of the toast. He pulled a face and dropped the toast back to the plate.

'You're welcome,' Nadir looked amused but didn't comment on the food again. Christine was halfway through a juicy apple when Nadir asked, 'When do you plan to leave?'

Erik stared at him. 'Is there a rush?'

Nadir shook his head, 'Not at all,' he answered with genuine hospitality. 'But I know you must be eager to get away,'

'We are,' Erik said. 'But until Christine is healed, we're safer here. I can't protect her if she can't even run,'

Christine knew that the statement was true enough but Nadir did not know that the two of them planned to leave the following evening, under the cloak of dark. Christine had been feeling better and with the dizzy spells and sickness gone, Erik had been encouraging her to eat more and more to keep her strength up.

'I spoke to my friend today,' Nadir said as he moved towards the door.

Erik glanced up at him.

'I have not been able to find any information on the man you say is called Gustav,' Nadir said. 'My friend tells me that William Astworth's body has been released to the family for a proper burial,'

'Anything else,'

'They don't think that Christine is still in London,' he said. 'But they think she is still in the country. Their suspicion is that she has gone north to the docks in Liverpool hoping to leave for America,'

Erik nodded.

'So I would go through Portsmouth,' Nadir advised. 'And through France,'

'Thank you, Daroga,' Erik said and Christine could tell that he meant it.

Nadir's answer was to nod his head and close the door behind him, leaving Erik and Christine alone again. Although Erik had been kinder and much softer, most of their conversation had been limited to him telling her to eat and her telling him not to worry. She had gained most of her respect back for him, some affection had returned too and she was happy to be in his company, but sometimes she did not know quite how to approach him.

After Nadir left they sat in silence for over an hour, Erik would occasionally rise to his feet and walk to the window, satisfying himself that they were safe, and then he would sit down again.

Around half an hour later Nadir came back up with a sandwich for each of them and told them that he would be out for most of the night and should they need anything Michelle was never far away.

Once he had gone she fixed her eyes on Erik, she could barely take anymore silence.

'Why don't you talk to me?' she asked.

He glanced up at her surprised. 'I do,'

'Not really,' she pointed out.

'I'm talking to you now,' he said, bemused.

'No,' she said. 'You're answering me. We're not really talking.'

He frowned. 'What would you like to talk about?'

'You can't just sit there and talk about inventing a subject,' she laughed gently.

'Why not?' he asked.

'Because conversation should be random,' she explained. 'You're a little too structured sometimes Erik,'

He didn't respond but his eyes twinkled slightly in the dim light of the bedroom.

'If you could ask me one question,' she said. 'One question that you've been wanting to ask me, what would it be?'

This time Erik laughed. 'And _I'm_ too structured?'

'I'm just getting us started,' she smiled but soon she was surrounded with silence again. 'Answer me,'

'I don't know,'

She rolled her eyes. She was trying to be playful, trying to find the common ground that they had back in Paris. She was starting to worry that it was long gone.

'There used to be a lot of questions I wanted to ask,' Erik said suddenly, sounding more serious than Christine had intended. 'There aren't many anymore,'

'Surely there is something,' she said.

He nodded. 'What do you miss most about Paris?'

It was a question she hadn't really anticipated and in the absence of being able to tell him the truth she opted for, 'I miss Meg,'

'Not the glorious weather then?' he smiled.

She shook her head, her heart beating harder than it had done in weeks. What did she miss most about Paris… _Meg_… it was a lie. She missed Paris immensely. She missed the Opera Populaire, she missed being a star, she missed the stage… she missed…

'Are you going to ask me something?' he said, interrupting her thoughts. 'I was led to believe that this is what happens in a conversation,'

She smiled at him. 'Do you ever sing?'

He stared at her for a long, cold moment before blinking and turning his face away, 'No,'

'Never?'

'Never,'

She sighed deeply, realising that she had somehow hit a raw nerve. She had other questions, questions that were flooding to her mind now, but she knew that they were all questions that she could not ask him.

'I wish you would,' she said softly causing him to turn his face back in her direction. His mask caught the candlelight and shone orange as he moved.

'What?'

'I wish you would sing,' she swallowed hard.

'Why?'

'Because you do it so beautifully,' she said, her mouth suddenly dry. His stare was hard and cool but she could not see the gold flecks of anger in his eyes.

'Those days are gone,' he said simply but there was no irritation in his voice… it was almost resigned.

'Why though?' she asked.

'There is no point,'

She took a breath, 'There was no point before, was there?' she asked. 'You would just sing,'

He blinked and turned away again.

'There was no point before,' she repeated.

'There was you,' he said quietly.

Her breath caught in her throat, 'I'm here now…'

'It isn't the same,'

She knew he was right. It wasn't the same and would probably never be the way it was before again. Erik loved her then and she cared for him deeply. There was a chemistry between them when they sang, his voice could lift her, his voice was _inspired_.

She just had not realised the extent to which it was inspired by her.

* * *

Christine was woken in a panic by a hand clamped over her mouth. The room was pitch black and when she looked towards where Erik had been seated she could no longer make out his shape in the dark. Terrified she reached up to dig her nails into her assailant's hand just as he whispered, 'It's me, shh,'

Erik removed his hand from her mouth and moved around so that he was in front of her. 'What's going on?' she asked quietly.

He placed a finger to his lips, as he had once done in her room at the Opera Populaire. It was a gesture that once endeared him to her, now it frightened her. He crept to the door and listened before coming back to her side.

'We need to go,' he whispered.

She blinked, her eyes finally beginning to adjust to the darkness. 'Now?'

He nodded. 'There is someone downstairs,'

'Perhaps it is Nadir home?' she asked as quietly as she could.

He pulled her carefully out of bed, 'Tread lightly,' he handed her some clothes. 'It isn't Nadir,'

'How do you know?' she asked.

'Too early,' he said. 'And whoever it is didn't use a key,'

He guided her over towards the window where she could see what she was doing. 'Maybe it is Michelle?'

He shook his head. 'Too heavy footed to be Michelle,'

Christine felt a sudden flush of panic race through her chest as she tugged her night gown off and pulled her fresh clothes on. If Erik had paid any attention to her brief nakedness she couldn't tell but he seemed more interested in the door.

'I'm dressed,' she said.

He handed her a bag. 'That one isn't too heavy,'

She took it and threw it over her shoulder as Erik lifted a second bag from the floor. 'How are we going to get out?' she asked.

'Through the window in the bathroom,' he whispered. 'There is a ledge under it,'

'How do you know that?'

She thought she saw him smile. 'I've been thinking of escape routes since we got here,'

She nodded her head as he guided her carefully across the room urging her to keep her steps as soft as possible. Erik's steps were naturally light and like a ghost he drifted across the room and opened the bathroom window.

'Go,' he said.

She looked at the window and then back at him. 'What about you?'

'I'll follow you out,'

She stared at him for a moment.

'Whoever it is, they're on the stairs now,' he said. 'Hurry,'

She did not need to be told again as she pulled herself out of the window and on to the low ledge. Once out into the cold night she looked around her and noticed another ledge for her to move down to.

As she was about to step down onto the second ledge she heard a clatter from the room behind her. She turned and looked in to see Erik wrestling with a man almost twice his size. Every sense she had in her told her to go back in and help him but she knew that Erik would not thank her for it and so, helplessly, she stood there watching the battle.

Erik was thrown to the bathroom floor but he did not struggle, instead he allowed the man to come at him. Christine nearly screamed as the huge man began to bear down on Erik but she should have known better.

In a flash of blood the man fell to his knees clutching at his throat.

Erik dropped something metallic to the ground but did not hang around, he took the man's bag from him and jumped out through the window.

'I wish I could say sorry to Nadir,' he said, grabbing Christine's wrist and pulling her down onto the second ledge. In another swift movement he guided her to the ground. 'He's going to come home to quite a mess,'

Christine was too shocked to do anything but nod.

'Someone betrayed us,' Erik said as he led her along back street after back street, into dark alleyways and long lanes. 'The only two it could have been are Nadir and Michelle,'

'Nadir…'

Erik shook his head. 'Unlikely,'

'Not Michelle,'

'She is the only other,'

They slid into another thin alleyway and he led her along until they were suddenly facing a large field. In the distance was a dark patch that looked like a woodland.

'Nadir is also a likely candidate, Erik,'

'I trust him,'

'You don't trust anyone,' Christine snapped.

'Then that should tell you something,' Erik said calmly. 'Because I trust Nadir,'

Christine thought about this for a moment as the brushed through the long grass towards the wooded area ahead of them. She was glad that the rain has stopped but her dress was soaked from the hem to near her knees from the water on the ground.

'So who is Michelle?'

Erik shrugged. 'Opportunistic I think,'

'How so?' Christine asked.

'There is a reward for your capture,'

'The man you killed…' Christine almost held her breath.

'Don't worry,' Erik said simply. 'That was not a police officer,'

'Then who was it?'

'The police had not posted a reward, Christine,' Erik explained as they arrived at the first shading of trees. 'Someone did, but it wasn't the police,'

'Someone looking for that document,'

Erik nodded his head solemnly as they delved deeper into the woods. Christine was feeling increasingly uneasy and the darker and thicker the trees became the more worried she got.

'Are we safe in here?'

Erik glanced at her. 'I would not take you somewhere I did not think you would be safe,' he answered.

She nodded.

'There is a small cave up ahead,'

She was about to ask him how he knew but thought better of it, instead she said, 'You really did think of everything,'

'Not quite,' Erik finally smiled. 'But almost,'

The cave was indeed small but it was good enough for shelter and Erik opened his bag up and pulled out a large blanket, throwing it onto the earth in the cave. Christine crawled in and huddled into the corner, the bitter cold catching her out once she stopped moving fast.

Erik crawled in behind her dragging the bag in with him. Once in, he pulled out another blanket and threw it over Christine. 'Here, stay warm. How do you feel?'

'A little sick,'

He nodded. 'Must be all the excitement,' he joked but even in the darkness she saw the concern in his eyes. 'How is your side?'

'It aches a little but not too bad,' she replied.

'Stay warm,' he instructed again.

'What about you?' she asked for the second time that night.

He smiled. 'I don't feel the cold much,'

She knew that this was true, she remembered his cold cellar well and she was so caught up in her thoughts, it was a while before she realised that her teeth were chattering. 'I'm cold,'

Erik stared at her for what seemed an eternity before shuffling his body closer. He tucked the blanket carefully around her body and slid his arm around her shoulders as she curled into him. 'Use my heat,' he said gently.

After a few moments she began to get the feeling back in her fingers and toes.

'Better?' he asked and all she could do was nod.

_She was exhausted._

* * *

Chapter 9


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Erik had slept that night, but not much.

For the most part he had done his best to keep Christine warm, leaving his arm tucked uncomfortably under her body while he kept watch. He hadn't been foolish enough to believe he could stay awake all night, but he had tried and had been successful until the light of dawn began to slowly change the sky. At this point he allowed himself to briefly capture some sleep. When he opened his eyes the sun was bright but not high in the sky and the air was damp and cool.

Christine was still tucked under his arm and was still sleeping soundly. He knew that Michelle had betrayed them, other than Nadir, there was no one else it could be. The real reason he knew it was not the Persian who had given them up was that Nadir would not have been foolish enough to believe that someone could sneak up on Erik in the night.

Although he was angry with Michelle he knew that harming her now would do him no good. His main priority, as it had always been, was to get Christine to somewhere safe and warm.

She stirred at his side and when he looked down he found that her eyes were open and she was staring up at him. Strangely, it was not an uncomfortable moment between them and Erik was beginning to actually believe that she was starting to forgive him.

'Morning,' she said, her voice husky with residual sleep.

He swallowed hard and gently slipped his arm out from underneath her. 'Good morning,' he replied, shifting away from her and over to the bag he had been carrying the night before. Inside he found a chunk of bread and handed it to her.

Gingerly she slid her right arm from under the blanket and took the bread from him. 'It's still cold,'

'It isn't likely to warm much today,' he said, glancing out at the sky. 'There's no cloud cover,'

'At least we won't get wet,'

Erik managed a smile. 'I'm more worried about you being too cold,'

She returned the smile. 'I'll be fine, I'm sure, I just need to keep moving,'

He regarded her quietly for a moment. Her hair was messy from sleep, her eyes looked tired and there were dark rings under her eyes where exhaustion had manifested itself on her appearance. To him, though, she was still beautiful.

'Eat the bread,' he told her.

She nodded, taking a bite.

While she ate he reached over to the bag he had taken from the intruder in Nadir's house. He opened the satchel and emptied its contents onto the blanket in front of him. There wasn't much there, some coins that he pocketed and some pieces of paper.

He turned each paper over individually until he found one that caught his attention. It was a small letter and read; '_Henry, show no-one this note. I will pay you well for the task I have given you. Bring the woman, alive, and kill the man in the mask. Under no circumstances is he to survive, yours, RD.'_

Christine was staring at him curiously when he looked up from the page, 'What have you found?' she asked.

'The man who was sent for you last night was a man named Henry, according to this,'

'No surname?' she asked.

Erik shook his head. 'No,'

'Who sent him?' she asked.

'It's initialled,' Erik answered still trying to get the situation to make some sense in his mind.

'Do you know who the initials belong to?' she inquired after finishing the last piece of her bread.

'They are R.D,' he sighed. 'I don't think it's much of a leap to conclude that those initials stand for Robert Davis,'

She took the letter from him and read it for herself, frowning, 'Why on earth would someone carry such a damning document around with them?'

'Insurance, I should think,' Erik replied.

'What against?'

'Me,' Erik said. 'In case I got the upper-hand, he was probably hoping he could bribe his way out of it with this information,'

Christine stared at him in silence for a long moment before saying, 'Well they weren't to know were they?'

He blinked, 'What?'

'About you,' she smiled slightly. 'That they should never allow you to get the upper-hand,'

He smiled back. 'He didn't have time to negotiate with me,'

'No, I saw,'

He swallowed, 'I'm sorry you saw that,'

She shrugged her shoulders, 'It's no worse than the other things I've seen these past few months,' she shrugged the blanket off her body and folded in neatly, swapping it for a shawl in her bag. 'Besides, from what I could see he was fully intent on killing you. I think you were quite right to kill him,'

'I didn't think I would ever hear you say that,'

'I didn't think my life would ever be in danger like this,' she said. 'I didn't think my fiancé would be murdered brutally before my eyes and I didn't think I would ever be stabbed by the dagger of some thug… I'm quite happy for you to kill those fiends,'

Erik nodded. 'I wish I had kept him alive now,' he said.

'Why?'

'I could have interrogated him,'

'What if he told you nothing?'

Erik smiled. 'He was already prepared to tell me _something_ in exchange for his life, I doubt his original story would have been the entire truth but I have my methods,'

'Then why not keep him alive?' Christine asked innocently.

'I think that there was someone with him,' Erik answered. 'I thought that I heard two sets of footsteps downstairs and I couldn't risk your life for the sake of some answers,'

Christine nodded her head solemnly and then crawled forward and out of their small cave. Erik watched the way she moved for a moment, saw the stiffness she showed when she stretched the side of her body with the knife wound. When she stood she turned to look at him and he felt like a teenager again. Her eyes implored him and he wondered whether she realised that his love for her was still strong.

He had told Nadir that he would never confess his love for Christine to her again and he had been telling the truth. Back in Paris the pain of loving her had often been exquisite but with it came the jealousy and then, regretfully and far worse, the pain of losing her.

Erik turned his face away lest she see something in his expression that gave away his true feelings. He began to stuff things back into bags until there was nothing left in the cave and then he too crawled out into the cool morning air.

'We'll continue on through the woods,' he said, handing her the smallest of the satchels. 'There is a small village a couple of miles past, we will find an inn… wash and eat,'

She nodded.

'Do you think you'll be alright?' he asked as they began to make their way through the woodland.

A twig snapped loudly under Christine's foot and she jumped slightly. Then she laughed gently at herself. 'I'm fine, Erik,'

He knew not to push the issue, he was sure that even if she was not fine there was a high probability that she would not tell him. He would monitor her, keep his eyes peeled for signs of weakness. A few miles was not too far to walk but he was sure that she was tired, she was still weak, her wound had not completely healed… he worried about her in silence.

* * *

Christine did surprisingly well on the jaunt and when they reached the village she turned and beamed at him in a childlike show of pride. 'I can't believe I made it!'

Erik decided not to point out that if she was as fine as she had told him then their making it would hardly have been in doubt. Instead he returned her smile and nodded his head.

'Where to now?' she asked.

'We will follow the main road until we find an inn,' he said simply.

She followed him without further question until they reached an inn called the Bulls Head. It looked tidy, if a little old, and Erik held the door open for her so that she could walk into the room.

The first thing that hit him when he entered was the warmth from the fire, the second the smell of food cooking in the kitchen. An elderly looking gentleman approached them cautiously.

'Can I help you?' he asked.

'My wife and I are looking for a room for the night,' Erik replied.

'You look a little…'

'We've been travelling,' he interrupted. 'We have money and I'm willing to pay in advance, if that is your concern,'

The man frowned. 'Is she your mistress?'

Erik was surprised by the question and was about to protest when Christine said, 'I'm shocked and offended, sir,'

The man's expression changed quickly as he stared down at his feet. 'I'm sorry,' he said gently. 'We get a lot of trouble here from husbands who find their wives with other men,'

Christine didn't respond, instead she brushed past him and stood by the open fireplace in the room to the side. Erik saw the orange glow on her face and thought of the nights they had sat in the Opera Populaire by a log fire, talking or singing.

He swallowed. 'A room, sir?'

The man nodded and instructed them to follow him. Christine reluctantly moved away from the fire and caught up with them. They were given a downstairs room at the back of the building. It looked comfortable but cold.

At least there was a basin.

'I'll bring you some hot water,' the man told them as he left.

The door clicked shut and Erik watched as Christine sat on the edge of the bed. She swept her hand along the cover, flattening the bumps in it, and then she looked up at him, 'Would you like to sleep in the bed tonight?'

He shook his head. 'I'll take the floor, I'm used to it,'

Abruptly she stood up and looked around, opened cupboard doors until she found a spare blanket and pillow. She threw them to him and smiled. 'No use you freezing for a second night,'

He smiled back and then glanced at the clock by the bedside. It was after midday.

The owner returned quickly with a bowl of piping hot water and a bar of soap. After he had gone Christine carefully splashed the water into the basin and dipped her hands into it. 'Warmth,' she sighed.

Erik sat in the small chair near the window and watched as she washed her face, hands and arms carefully. The water trickled down her neck, catching the light from the window and sparkling along her skin like a row of diamonds. She giggled as it tickled her and dabbed her neck with the towel that was next to the basin.

Erik stood quickly, only too aware that he should not be watching her, 'I'll go downstairs so that you can wash properly,' he said.

She turned to look at him as he headed for the door, 'You'll need to wash too,'

'After you're done,' he said. 'Will twenty minutes be long enough?'

She nodded her head and, somewhat reluctantly, he left her alone.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews, they are much appreciated ... as you know. **

**Chapter 11**

By the next day Christine felt more energetic and she woke up early enough to find that Erik was still asleep on the floor nearest the door. She sat for the long time in the darkness of the room, listening to the almost silence of the ticking mantel clock. It occurred to her that she had never really seen him sleep before.

He slept softly.

His breathing was quiet and gentle, he made no sound and did not move, his sleep looked dreamless and for a moment she was caught in the peace of another persons slumber. She was not really sure how long she had sat in the bed watching him but when his eyes opened and he turned to face her she made no move to look away.

He stared at her quietly for a long moment before breaking the silence with, 'You're awake,'

She nodded her head.

'I usually wake before you,' he clarified, as if his statement was strange.

'I know,' she smiled. 'I woke early this morning,'

'You should have…'

'I didn't want to disturb you,'

He sighed and pushed himself up so that he was sitting. Sleep agreed with him, she thought as she noticed the sparkle in his eyes, they looked clear and alert, even more so than usual. He glanced at the clock and sighed. 'We can't stay here for long,'

'I know,' she said and then, after a short pause, added, 'How long?'

'Another night, perhaps, to rest,' he stood and walked to the window, nudging the drapes back with his finger he looked out onto the winter morning.

'And then? She asked.

He moved from the window, letting the curtain fall back down, 'We move on,'

'To where?'

'To retrieve the document,' he said.

She frowned, worried, 'For what purpose,'

Seemingly without thinking, Erik pulled off the night shirt he had been wearing and said, 'To save our lives,' he leant over the back of the chair and lifted his white shirt from it. As he slipped it over his shoulders he turned to face her, showing hard stomach muscles and a scarred chest.

Not scars like the ones on his face, these were wounds… _slashes_.

She blinked and turned away, embarrassed that she should see him looking so vulnerable.

A few moments later, 'You can look, I'm covered,'

She took a breath and faced him again. His shirt was buttoned up and he was pulling his jacket on but, when he looked towards her, his eyes were cold.

Unsure what to say she chose the path of least resistances and remained entirely silent. The air between them was suddenly frosty and the warmth she had felt for him as he slept began to slowly seep into her stomach and settle there as fear.

Erik left the buttons of his jacket undone and walked briskly over to the bedroom door.

'Where are you going?' she asked.

He pulled the door open and, without a word, walked out letting it slam shut behind him.

* * *

Erik's stomach bubbled with anger as he strode down the hallway and into the breakfast room. He took a seat in the corner of the room and sat staring out of the window. Barely able to push the rage back down he touched the scars on his chest and shook his head. Simply another part of him that she found utterly disgusting. Not that he should be surprised, she was used to Raoul, smooth and unharmed. God forbid she should be subjected to the sight of his scars.

Absently, he began to drum the fingers of his right hand on the arm of the chair. Soon he realised that there were several people staring at him. He glared back at them until they all, one by one, turned away.

He should have known better than to come on this stupid mission. The only thing it was doing to him was playing with his mind, hurting what little pride he had left. Christine would always be the same, she would always be the one who rejected him… she would always be so shallow.

So, _why_?

If he knew all of this about her, if he knew the way she was, if he knew that she would continue to hurt him, again and again, then why did he continue to protect her? Being around her was pain itself, the sight of her almond shaped eyes, dark as the night, would always burn his heart.

Never again would he tell her of his feelings but just because he did not speak of them did not mean that they did not exist.

He became acutely aware that he was rocking in the seat and made a conscious effort to stop himself, it was difficult, it was something he did without thinking, something he did when he was angry… _troubled_.

He wasn't sure how long he had been there before Christine walked in but he was sure it was much longer than necessary for her to dress. When he looked up at her, he noticed that her eyes had faint red rings around them and he deduced that she had been crying. No sympathy entered his heart.

Instead he stood and brushed past her.

'Erik,' she said, trying not to raise her voice. Always keeping up appearances.

Aristocracy had ruined her.

'What?' he snapped, turning to face her.

Eyes wide she asked again, 'Where are you going?'

He stared at her incredulously. 'I'm going for a walk,'

'Can I come?' she asked with some hesitation.

'No,' he answered simply.

Momentarily, she looked hurt by the curtness of his response but the look faded and she asked, 'What should I do then?'

'Eat,' he replied, and then added. 'Then go back to the room and cry for Raoul,'

She swallowed but did not rise to his comment, instead she said, 'When will you be back?'

He shrugged his shoulders and skulked out into the cold morning air, as he did his warm breath turned misty in front of him and he dug his hands into his jacket pockets.

* * *

By the time he returned to the room at the inn the night was as black as jet and bitter with cold. Christine had curled herself up under the thin blanket on the bed and tried to make herself comfortable. When the door creaked open and he walked in she said nothing but watched him closely.

Erik closed the door behind him but stood still, his eyes meeting hers through the blackness of the room. 'Did you eat?' he asked.

She stared at him, willing her eyes to remain stony, 'Breakfast and lunch,' she said coolly.

He didn't seem to notice her tone.

'That was a long walk,' she added with more softness.

'I needed to clear my head,' he explained, which was a lot more than she had expected.

She wasn't sure if she should say more but decided that, while lines of communication were open, she should try and keep them that way, 'Where did you go?'

He was still staring at her and had not moved a step, 'I found us some horses,'

'Were they expensive?' she asked.

'No,' he replied.

'Are they… good?'

He nodded his head, 'They're good enough,'

Finally he walked into the room and over to the chair where he had rested his nightshirt. As he lifted it from where it rested he turned to the window, noticing that the drapes were open slightly. 'Did you open the curtains?'

She nodded, swallowing hard. 'Did I do wrong?'

He moved over and pulled the gap closed. 'No, it's fine,'

Silence settled again as he drifted back across the room with the nightshirt in his hands.

'Erik,' she said gently.

He turned to her. 'What?'

'Why are you so angry with me?'

'I'm not,'

She laughed. 'Don't treat me like an idiot, Erik,'

He didn't respond, instead he turned his back on her and pulled his shirt off, quickly replacing it with the nightshirt before turning back around.

'I think you misunderstood,' she said.

He sat on the floor and pulled his blanket over his knees but he didn't say anything.

'Earlier… when you were changing…'

'Leave it, Christine, what is done is done,'

She shook her head, amazed at his obstinacy, 'I turned away because…'

'I don't…'

'Listen!' she shouted, feeling her voice crack with tears. 'I'm sorry that I hurt your feelings,'

'You didn't hurt my feelings,'

'Don't be so pig-headed,' she snapped. 'I'm sorry that I hurt your feelings, I turned away because I shouldn't see you shirtless… like _that_, I'm married,'

He glared up at her and just when she expected him to fly into rage, as she steeled herself ready for the force of his anger, his eyes softened and he said, gently, 'He's gone, Christine,'

Her mouth felt as dry as parchment, 'I know that,' choking back tears she added, 'But I still…'

Before she could finish he interrupted her, 'I'm sorry,' he said. 'You're right, I misunderstood,'

After a moment of silence she asked, 'How did you get them?'

She saw him blink his eyes in the darkness, 'They're old scars,'

She nodded.

'I was a boy,'

She waited.

'It was a long time ago, it was nothing,'

She felt her heart swell with sadness for the youth he must have lost. 'They don't look like nothing,' she said gently.

'I barely remember,' he said but it was a lie, they both knew it.

She slid to the side of the bed, letting her feet dangle over the edge as she looked at him.

'My mother sold me to the circus,' he said finally and frankly.

Christine felt her throat tighten. 'Your mother…'

He nodded and turned his face away.

'How could she?' Christine whispered, more to herself than to him. The thought that any mother could be so cruel, so _merciless_, was foreign to her and she stared at him with a newfound sorrow etched into her heart.

'You'd have to ask her,' he said, in answer to her question.

'Is she still alive?' she asked as he turned his face back towards her.

She caught a glimpse of his smile. 'I'm not _that_ old,'

It was good to hear a little levity in his voice.

'I didn't say you were,' she returned his smile.

'She's alive,' he answered.

'How old were you?'

He blinked.

'When she did that, how old were you?'

'Four or five, I think,' Erik replied. 'The years all merged together for a long time,'

She nodded, trying to understand, 'They hurt you,'

'Only when I didn't obey them,' he explained.

She swallowed the burning sensation back down her throat.

'It's not as bad as it looks,' he said.

Again, she nodded.

'When did they release you?' she asked.

He laughed. 'They didn't,'

Christine frowned.

'I escaped,' Erik clarified. 'Antoinette Giry helped me to escape,'

'How did you know her?'

'I didn't _know_ her,' Erik said. 'She visited the circus and decided that she didn't like the way that I was treated. That's one thing about Antoinette, she is a woman made up of all the good things… compassion, strength…'

'How old was she when she helped to free you?'

'Not much older than I was,' he said. 'Around thirteen or fourteen I think, a few years older than I was,'

'Do you actually know how old you are?' she asked, confused.

Erik shook his head, the whiteness of his mask moving from side to side. 'I figure that I am forty-five or forty-six,'

'You don't look that much older than me,'

He laughed gently. 'A rare compliment,'

'I can take it back,'

'Don't,' he said, the laughter gone from his tone, his voice soft. 'I'll treasure it,'

She felt her cheeks grow hot and changed the subject quickly. 'How did you escape?'

He turned and lay on the floor, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders, 'Antoinette came back that night with a hacksaw… we sawed through the bars… it didn't take long, looking back, they were really quite flimsy,'

'Where did you go?'

'Antoinette's father worked at the Opera Populaire and she knew it had a cellar, she took me to it,'

'You lived under the opera house for all those years?' she asked, astonished.

He nodded. 'It was my home,'

'Weren't you cold?'

He smiled ruefully, 'Living in a cage prepared me for any cold I might feel,' she saw that he had closed his eyes and so she lay back on her bed. 'It's why I barely feel the cold anymore, I think my body accustomed itself to it,'

Christine closed her eyes, feeling a little sleepy as she asked, 'What did you find when you first went into the cellars?'

'Not much,' he replied. 'Antoinette brought blankets and food,' he sighed gently. 'And books,'

Christine turned onto her side so that she was looking in his direction. She could only see his shoulder, the rest of him was hidden by the edge of the bed.

'I think I might have gone crazy without the books,' it sounded as though he was talking to himself. 'Without her,'

'She was your friend,' Christine whispered.

'The greatest friend,' he confirmed quietly.

'How did you survive?'

'Antoinette was the only reason I survived for the first few months, bringing me food and new clothes, books to read, gas lamps for light,' he explained. 'My eyes had already adjusted quite well to the dark but they helped with reading the books,'

'What books did she bring?'

'All sorts,' he said and she could hear the smile in his voice. 'History books, politics, newspapers that her father had discarded… fiction, a lot of Shakespeare, some medical texts and music books,' a sigh escaped. 'I loved the music books… I found a way to sit under the stage and listen to the orchestra while the operas were being rehearsed, glorious music,'

She swallowed, tears pooling in her eyes.

Erik was no longer talking to her, he was talking to himself, remembering aloud. 'The music became my salvation, so sweet and powerful… emotional. Finding different ways into the theatre so that I could see the conductor… teaching myself to read music… using the instruments at night when everyone had gone home. Antoinette would sometimes sneak in with me, I would let her listen to me play… I discovered that I really could sing quite well. She once told me that my voice moved her to tears… I didn't think anything would do that to her. From the carpentry books I learnt to build things, I created my labyrinth… to keep safe… and I made a bed, cabinets, bookcases,'

'You did remarkably well,' she finally said, thinking of him becoming a young man locked away and almost entirely alone. 'How did you meet Nadir?'

'He too was a fugitive of sorts,' Erik explained. 'I took to going walking in the dead of night, when I felt safest and he was being chased by the police… I don't know why I helped him, but I did, I took him back with me to the cellars and hid him with me,'

'Did he stay for long?' she asked.

'No,' Erik answered. 'He went home but returned the following day with pastries for me to eat,'

'Why was he running from the police?'

'He had stolen some money from a man,' Erik said. 'But the money was rightfully Nadir's… it's a long story but Nadir was grateful for my intervention that night. We stole a piano a few nights later for me to keep in my home,' he sighed. 'We travelled a little, I got to see more of the world, art and culture… slowly Antoinette began to visit me less, she married and gave birth to Meg… that was hard for me,'

Feeling drowsy Christine reached her hand down and let it hang over the side of the bed. 'I'm tired…'

'I know,' he whispered.

She let her hand dangle until he took it in his.

His grip was light but comforting.

Safe and warm, she finally fell to sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Another chapter for you all to peruse. Many thanks to the readers (of which there seem to be many) and to reviewers (of which there are few and are loved) alike. **

**Hope you all have a lovely weekend. **

**Chapter 12**

The following morning was particularly cold and the ground looked as though it has been dusted with crystals. Erik had risen early and left Christine sleeping, knowing that she needed a rest and feeling a fool for the way he had behaved the previous day. He was unused to the boundaries she had and so used to people turning away from him in disgust, that he had assumed that her averted gaze was repulsion when, in fact, it was modesty.

He went to the bakery a few doors down and bought fresh rolls and croissants, a delicacy he thought was only readily available in France and the very south of England. Even to Erik, who needed very little to eat, the food smelt inviting and when he was inside the room he chose a small croissant and ate it quietly in the corner of the room.

Christine woke up a little after nine, rubbing her eyes and stretching her arms in a show of such undisturbed innocence that for a moment he was actually taken aback. When she finally looked at him she smiled warmly.

'That smells lovely,' she said, sleep still clinging to her throat.

She pushed herself up so that she was sitting with her back against the pillows. He handed her a warm croissant and she bit into it hungrily. 'This is very nice,' she said after swallowing the buttery bread down.

He nodded.

'Did you have one?'

'A small one,'

'You should eat some more,' she said, looking at the bread rolls resting on the paper to his left.

He shook his head, 'Not for me. You eat as much as you need, we'll take whatever is left along with us,'

She looked disappointed. 'We really are leaving here today, aren't we?'

He nodded.

She sighed. 'I was starting to feel… comfortable,'

'We can't afford to feel comfortable,' Erik said, trying not to sound too unkind. 'We need to remain one step ahead,'

'No-one knows we're here, do they?'

'I don't think so,' he replied. 'But we're really not too far away from London, anyone with a little ingenuity will be able to find us soon enough,'

She nodded slowly. 'I'm sorry,'

He shrugged.

'I just miss being home… and warm,'

'I know,' he said, standing and brushing crumbs from his jacket. 'I'll let you get dressed,'

He waited outside the room, listening carefully, until she called him back in. She had washed and dressed, looking fresher and brighter than she had done in weeks. When he walked back into the room she smiled at him but he could see the effort that went into it.

'I know this isn't what you need at the moment,' he said. 'But we really do need to keep moving. It isn't safe for us to hang around in one place.'

She nodded her head, picked up her bag and followed him to the door. As they reached the end of the corridor Erik noticed a man he did not recognise as a regular customer of the inn. He was tall and wide with rough features, a face well weathered and arms as thick as tree branches.

Erik instinctively put his arm across Christine, stopping her from walking any further.

'What's wrong?' she asked and he could clearly hear the panic in her voice.

'I don't know,'

'Something, though?'

He nodded and pushed her back. 'Quiet,' he whispered pressing his finger to his own lips. He pressed his back to the wall and listened as carefully as he could. The rustic looking man wasn't too worried about who heard him, either he was supremely confident or not as professional as he should be.

'Yes, that's right,' the man said to the innkeeper.

'I don't believe I have,' the innkeeper said, in answer to whatever question he had previously been asked.

'Not even for a brief drink?' the tall man asked, his voice was gruff and raw, offensive to Erik's ears. 'Or to warm by the fire?'

The innkeeper was quiet for a moment before answering, 'No, I'd remember someone of that description I'm sure of it, this is a small village,'

Erik sighed. 'Go back to the room, Christine,' he whispered.

'What's…'

'Don't question me,' he snapped, though more out of frustration than anger. 'Go quietly, I'll explain soon,'

'What are you going to do?' she asked quietly.

He didn't answer, instead he gently pushed her along, 'I won't be long,' he said. She opened her mouth to speak again but something in his expression must have stopped her and instead her jaw snapped shut and she tiptoed away.

'If you see them, will you send word to this address please?' the man asked and when he didn't give an address verbally, Erik assumed that he had written it down for the inn keeper.

'Of course,' the inn keeper replied and then asked, 'What have they done?'

'I don't know,' the man answered. 'I was just tasked with finding them and taking them back,'

The low rumble of conversation in the lounge took over as the man left and Erik came out, checking there was nothing else out of place before he walked to the innkeeper.

The old man smiled, 'Good morning,'

'Who was that?' Erik asked.

'Didn't give me a name,' the innkeeper answered. 'He was looking for you and your _wife_,'

'Why didn't you give us up?'

The other man shrugged his bony shoulders and then showed a smile. 'I don't like to meddle in other people's affairs,'

Erik reached into his pocket and pulled out some coins for the innkeeper but the old man simply shook his head and grinned. 'No need,'

Ever suspicious Erik insisted, 'Why did you help us?'

He shrugged again. 'That man assured me that I was in no danger from you or the little miss,' his smile fell from his lips. 'He also told me he wasn't with the police,'

'And that made a difference,'

'It made a difference to me,' the innkeeper nodded. 'I don't know what he wants with you, I don't know what he's going to do with you… why, if he's not police, would I trust him?'

'Good point,' Erik conceded.

'What are you running from?' the old man asked, curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

'I'm not sure,' Erik replied honestly. 'Something or someone who would see harm done to my wife,'

'Really?'

Erik weighed up his options. He wanted to keep the old man on his side and so he nodded, 'These people seem to think that she has something that they want,'

'And does she?'

Erik shook his head. 'No, but they don't believe her,'

'So you're running,' the old man nodded and then glanced up at Erik. 'Why not tell the police?'

'It's complicated,'

He smiled wryly. 'I'm sure it is,'

'Did he say which way he was heading now?' Erik asked.

'North,' the old man said, his eyes turned sceptical. 'You won't go after him,'

Erik smiled. 'No, don't worry, my wife doesn't like confrontation,'

'And you?'

'Confrontation is something that is sometimes completely unavoidable,'

The innkeeper stared at Erik for a long moment and then, finally, nodded solemnly. 'Indeed,' he frowned. 'You're leaving today, then?'

'Yes,' Erik replied, glancing towards the door.

'A shame,' the old man said. 'Your wife is a sweet lady, very sweet,'

Erik sighed. 'Yes she is,'

'She also looks very sad,'

Erik knew that this was true but still he felt his heart sink a little bit. There was a cold part of him that wanted to tell the old man that he should keep his comments to himself but he could not deny the truth of the statement. Over the last few months Christine had gone through a lot and had suffered many losses… he wrongly thought that he was the only person to see the sadness in her eyes.

'Thank you for your help,' Erik said.

The old man offered his hand and Erik stared at it before finally shaking it gently. 'Look after your wife,'

'I'll try,'

When he got back to the room Christine was sitting on the bed staring at the door, holding the iron fire poker in her hands as some sort of weapon. Not a terrible choice, he thought, providing that she could swing it firmly enough.

'It's me,' he said, holding his hands up in submission.

She nodded and placed the poker gently on the floor. 'What's going on?' she asked.

Erik closed the door behind him and placed his finger on his lips. 'There's someone looking for us,' he whispered, brushing past the bed and peeking out of the window.

'Who?' she asked, equally as quietly.

'Not the police,' Erik answered.

'So we assume he's with Robert Davies,' Christine said.

Erik nodded.

'Is there anyone out there?'

'No,'

'Then come away from the window and sit for a moment,' she said softly. 'You're making me very nervous,'

Erik sighed and walked away from the window, ensuring that the curtains were closed properly. He sat opposite Christine on the chair and watched her mouth turn downwards as she looked back at him.

'What is it?'

'They're going to kill me,' she whispered.

He swallowed. 'I won't let that happen,'

She smiled at him. 'There are some things even you won't be able to prevent, Erik,'

'I won't allow anyone to hurt you,'

'And if they kill you first?' she asked softly.

Their eyes met. 'It's what they will have to do to get to you,' he said, his voice low and even. 'They will _have_ to kill me first,'

'If they do?'

'In the unlikely event that that happens, then you run,' he said. 'And you don't stop running… _ever_,'

'I'm going to be running forever… that's no life, Erik,'

'Better than death, surely,'

She shook her head. 'No,'

Neither of them spoke for a moment, they allowed the silence to settle over them before Christine said, 'Raoul is dead and if you are dead then what have I got?'

Erik looked away from her.

'I can't go to the Giry's… I can't put them in that kind of danger,' she sighed. 'I have no-one Erik,'

He opened his mouth to speak but she held up her hand to stop him, squeezing her eyes closed, she said, 'You're all I have now,'

He stood and moved to the door. 'And that isn't much,' he added the words she had been thinking. He opened the door and walked into the hallway, checking each way before turning back to face Christine. Her eyes were wide and empty, the emotion he knew she had within was heartbreakingly absent.

'We had better leave,' he said.

She stood without a word and followed him out, closing the door behind her. Instead of going out through the front he made his way to the back door of the inn. He opened it a crack and peered out.

'Come on,' he said, once he knew that it was safe. Without question she followed, her feet crunching the gravel pathway behind her.

They reached the small stables and Erik retrieved the horses he had purchased the day before. Carefully he got them ready and then helped Christine onto the back of the first, smaller horse. Once she as settled he handed her the bag with their food and blankets.

When he mounted his horse he guided her around to the front of the building and checked both ways. 'Coast is clear,'

Christine brought her horse around and followed Erik along the cobbled streets back in the direction they had come the previous day.

After a short while Christine brought herself alongside him and asked, 'We came this way yesterday,'

'There's a change of plan,'

'What are we doing?' she asked.

Erik dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of card with inked handwriting on it. He handed it across to Christine, who read it in silence and then asked, 'Whose address is this?

He shrugged his shoulders, 'I have no idea,'

'Then why are we going there?'

'We're not,'

She frowned.

'I'm taking you somewhere safe and out of the way,' he explained. 'We're going to travel for a few hours, we'll get further on the horses than we did walking, then we're going to find somewhere safe to spend a day or two,'

She looked confused.

'The people following us don't know about the horses, do they?' he asked.

She answered with a shake of her head.

'Then they believe that we are on foot?'

She nodded.

'Therefore, they won't logically believe we have gone as far as we will have done,'

Again, she nodded. 'I understand that,'

He glanced at her.

'What about this address?' she said, handing him the piece of card back.

He pocketed it. 'I might pay them a visit,'

'Are they the people looking for us? At that address?' she asked.

He nodded.

'It's dangerous,'

'No more dangerous than the last few weeks,' he rationalised.

'I can't allow you to go there,' she said firmly.

'You can't really stop me,' he said.

'Then I will follow you when you go,'

He smiled at her. 'You won't,' he said. 'Because I'm going to make sure that you are too safe, and that you are too warm, to even want to follow me,'

She fell silent for a moment.

'It's the only way Christine,'

'Why is it?' Christine asked.

'You don't want to run forever, you said that yourself,' he said.

She shook her head. 'I can run forever but I can't run _and_ be alone forever,'

Erik felt a stab of pain in his heart as looked at her. 'Christine,' he said gently. 'You are so beautiful, so endearing, that you will never spend long alone,'


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Not too sure about my history of firearms but I believe the shot gun was first mentioned, by this name, sometime in the late 1700's. Just a tid bit as I was pre empting the question about the shotgun (not that it does much, it's just there).**

**If anyone does know anything about their history, let me know.**

**Also, thank you for the reviews, I think I managed to get around to answering everyone individually. Thank you, thank you x**

**Chapter 13**

They arrived at a small woodland shortly after lunchtime, the sun was high and bright in the sky but it did little to cover the frosty winter air. In the distance Christine could see small wisps of smoke rising above the tips of the mostly leafless trees. Erik led the way, following the direction of the smoke until the wooded area opened in a small pocket of farmland, complete with a modest sized house and a small barn.

Erik went ahead cautiously and Christine was careful to stay behind him. As they approached the front of the house a man walked out, a dog harnessed in one hand and a shotgun hanging loosely over his other arm. Erik pulled the horse to a stop abruptly and Christine did the same.

The man ahead of them was older than them but his eyes were sharp and he moved a little closer with caution. The dog began to bark loudly and the man tugged at its lead until it sat by its owner's side quietly.

_All eyes on the two of them._

'Who are you?' the man asked, and Christine was surprised to hear the question asked in a French accent.

Erik picked up on it immediately and answered, in French, 'My name is Erik, this is my wife… Christine,'

The old man frowned but Christine noticed that his shotgun had lowered slightly. He looked less tense. 'What do you want?' the old man replied, in French.

'Somewhere to spend the night,' Erik replied, staying perfectly still. 'Do you know of anywhere?'

The man stared at him for a long moment, the crease in his forehead deepening. 'Why are you in this area?'

'We are running, Monsieur,' Erik said truthfully, much to Christine's surprise.

'From what?'

'I don't know,' Erik answered, and then added, bluntly, 'Someone is trying to kill my wife,'

The man's eyebrows lifted, moving the frown from his face and replacing it with surprise. 'Why?' he asked.

'I don't know,'

'Have they followed you?' the man asked, coming closer to them, dragging the dog with him.

'I don't think so,' Erik replied. 'But I can't be sure,'

The old man shook his head. 'You can never be sure,' he stood still and regarding Erik and Christine for a moment. She could feel his eyes on her. 'Follow me,' he turned his back and walked away.

Erik glanced over his shoulder at Christine and she forced a smile in his direction. The last few days had been a strange journey of her emotions, and she was no longer quite sure how she felt about anything. Most of her fear was gone, she knew that as long as Erik was around, no one could hurt her but what remained was a trepidation, the wondering what would happen if _they_ got to Erik.

They followed on the horses through the small courtyard and around the side of the barn where the old man led them into the stables.

'You may leave your horses here and follow me,' the man said.

Erik frowned. 'Where are we going?'

The old man smiled warmly. 'In to the house, where it is warm and you can tell me what is going on. Then, after that, I will decide if I will let you stay for a few days,'

As the man walked away, his grey hair shining under the sun, Christine frowned at Erik questioningly. In answer, he shrugged his shoulders, patted his horse and began to follow the stranger.

Christine caught up to him, heart hammering in her chest. 'Surely you don't trust him,'

Erik glanced sideways at her, 'I don't trust anyone,' he smiled ruefully, 'That is still good advice for you too,'

She sighed but said nothing more. She needed to trust him, show no weakness, they were in the situation together and occasionally she got the feeling that Erik needed her nearly as much as she needed him.

Once they reached the back door of the house the old man stopped and kicked off his dirty work boots. He glanced down at Erik's feet.

'I'm not taking my shoes off,' Erik said simply.

The old man frowned and then broke into a grin, 'I don't blame you,' and then he added. 'My wife doesn't like me leaving my boots on in the house but you… you two can, you're clean enough,'

_Thank_ _you_, Christine though with a little resentment. What did clean enough mean exactly?

They followed the man through the kitchen which was large and open, a huge pantry stood to the corner and opposite a large stove with a pot of something hot bubbling on top. Christine felt her stomach growl and placed her hand over it, trying to make it quiet down. They had eaten some more of pastries that Erik had purchased that morning as they had travelled but they both knew that it wasn't really enough to sustain them.

'My name is Alain,' he said as he led them into a homely living area with a roaring wood fire on the far side throwing welcome heat into the room. 'My wife is Ines, she is upstairs folding laundry,'

Erik nodded.

'Sit,' the man instructed. 'Who are you, Erik? Are you from Paris?'

Christine watched as Erik debated the answer in his own mind. She noticed that his eyes looked sharper and bluer than she had ever seen them before, alert and bright, fixed on Alain. 'Yes, I'm from Paris… we both are,'

Alain stared back, his own eyes dark but not quite black. 'Why do you wear a mask?'

Erik's eyes narrowed slightly but he answered anyway, 'My face is burnt,'

Christine knew it to be a lie but it was certainly a lie that was both believable and easily remembered.

'How?' Alain asked.

'Why does this matter?'

'I don't like that you cover your face, you're trying to hide something,'

Erik nodded. 'I'm trying to hide my burns,'

Alain stared at him for a long moment before glancing over at Christine. She turned her eyes downwards towards her lap. 'Is this true? Is your husband burnt?'

She nodded. 'Unfortunately, it's true, he is very unlucky,'

Quiet fell around them with only the popping and crackling of the fire breaking into the silence. Christine could not decide what she thought of this man. One minute it seemed that he was welcoming them, the next he was fixated on Erik's mask, interrogating him about it. Under any other circumstances she knew that such unwelcome curiosity about Erik's face would almost certainly result in the other man being injured in some way… if not killed.

She shuddered at the thought, a sudden cold perforating the heat of the room.

Alain turned his attention back to Erik, and Christine felt very grateful for the moment of reprieve. She wasn't a particularly apt liar.

'How long have you been running for?' Alain asked.

Erik's eyes were still burning into the older man, 'A while,'

'That is a little… _unspecific_,' Alain commented.

Erik shrugged.

'I can understand,' Alain mused. 'Yes, I can understand that. Being on the run from someone… it is hard, no?'

Christine found herself nodding.

'I too, ran,' the older man said with a sad smile.

Christine asked what he had run from and his smile weakened but remained on his face. 'We ran from civil war,' he replied. 'My wife and I… were aristocrats once,'

_Ah…_

'We managed to escape on a boat to England, bringing anything we could afford to carry,' he explained, his eyes drifting the orange of the fire. 'When here we camped out moving north and eventually found this small opening in the woods,' he paused, looking from Erik to Christine. 'I built this myself, and the barn and stables,'

'Impressive,' Erik said, his voice even. 'Especially for an aristocrat,'

The older man smiled and for the first time it brought a twinkle to his dark eyes. 'I had my talents, even back then,'

'You had no help to build this?' Christine asked, unable to control her curiosity.

'My wife helped,' he answered. 'We lived in the woods under a temporary shelter I built until this was finished,'

'Did it take you long?'

'Long enough,'

Erik stirred in his seat and Christine looked over towards him.

'You can stay here,' Alain said suddenly.

Again, Erik's eyes narrowed. 'Why?'

'Why not?'

'With all due respect, Monsieur, you don't know us,' Erik said.

'I know,' Alain conceded. 'But I also know what it is for a man to fear for his wife's safety, I know what it feels like to run from those who would see you dead. I know how that feels and I believe that you are telling me the truth,'

'We are,' Erik stated.

'Then you may stay, if you wish,'

Erik glanced at Christine and she nodded her head, not wanting to go back out into the cold.

'Thank you,' Erik said genuinely. 'We will stay for a day or two,'

'You're safe here,' Alain assured him.

'I doubt we will be safe for long,' Erik explained. 'The people who are looking for us seem to be rather resourceful,'

Alain smiled and stood. 'Then stay for as long as you feel safe, I will get you a drink and introduce you to my wife,'

Christine returned his smile.

'It will be tea,' Alain said. 'And then you can have some of my wife's beef stew,'

'It's smells wonderful,' Christine said earnestly.

The older man grinned. 'It is,'

When he had left the room Christine turned to Erik and smiled. 'It's lovely and warm,'

He nodded.

'I like it here,'

He smiled briefly, 'We can't stay for long,'

Christine sighed. 'I knew you were going to say that,'

'A couple of days, at the most,'

This time Christine nodded. 'He seems nice,'

'More importantly, he seems honest,' Erik said.

He opened his mouth to say more but abruptly stopped at the sound of footsteps on the staircase behind them. The boards creaked and Christine turned around to see a grey haired, blue eyed woman eyeing them curiously.

'Who are you?' she asked, her voice was raspy but not completely unpleasant.

'Your husband invited us in…' Christine explained. The woman scowled slightly, darkening her features, as her husband walked back in with a tray of tea.

'Ines,' he said gently, placing the tin tray on the table in the centre of the room. 'We have guests,'

On seeing her husband looking so comfortable she visibly relaxed, the tension loosening from her shoulders as walked down the last two steps and took a seat in the chair closest to the window.

'Ines, this is Erik and his wife Christine,' he said. 'They are from Paris,'

Ines smiled warmly, genuinely, and Christine could almost feel Erik relax by her side. 'Pleasure to meet you,'

'And you, Ines,' Christine said softly.

'What brings you out here?' she asked.

Christine glanced at Erik but before either of them could speak Alain walked over, placed a hand on his wife's shoulder and said, 'They're like us, my love,'

She looked up at him with almost childlike adoration, 'Like us?'

'They are running,'

'They are too young to run from the revolution..' she said gently.

Alain stroked her shoulder with his hand. 'Not from the revolution,' he explained. 'From someone who is looking for them,'

'Why are they looking for you?' she asked, turning her pale blue eyes back onto Erik.

Erik managed a smile. 'We're not sure, we think they believe we have something belonging to them,'

'And do you?' she asked, without shame.

'Not that I know of,' he said. 'They're mistaken,'

'This thing that they are looking for,' she said. 'It must be important,'

Erik glanced sideways at Christine, it was subtle but she saw it, she felt her heart beat hard in her chest. 'It must be,' Erik said.

'I know what it feels like to be chased away from your home,' she explained. 'It is hard, I know this, very hard but you will come through,' she looked at Christine, 'Your husband, he is a strong man, yes?'

Christine allowed an image of Raoul to flit across her mind, 'Yes, he is,'

'Then he will protect you,' she said. 'Like my husband protected me,'

Alain smiled.

'It is important to have a good husband,' Ines patted Alain's hand, which still rested delicately on her shoulder. 'Is Erik a good husband?'

Christine felt her throat tighten… 'He is,' she said softly, risking a fleeting look in his direction.

He didn't move.

'That is good,' she said, nodding and then abruptly she stood. 'Would you like some stew?'

Christine heard her stomach growl. 'If it's no trouble,'

Alain laughed. 'Ines makes enough stew to feed a small army,'

'It's no trouble,' Ines said.

'Then yes please,'

'And you Erik?' Ines asked as she moved toward the kitchen.

'A small bowl,'

Alain watched his wife leave and then poured two cups of tea, handing the steaming mugs to each of them. 'I do have some sugar if they need sweetening, but not much and we use it sparingly. It is expensive and takes us a long time to get any,' he said as Christine took a sip and let the liquid warm her.

'It's perfect,' she said, taking another mouthful, trying not to look desperate but enjoying the heat from the cup.

Erik stared at his cup curiously before taking a small sip. 'It's fine,'

* * *

The stew had tasted wonderful and she had eaten enough to fill her for nearly a month. Ines had made an apple pie for desert and Christine not only devoured her own slice but had also eaten Erik's, which he had insisted he was too full to eat.

He never seemed to eat much.

Darkness had drifted over fast, night had settled in and Alain was showing them to their room. The doors upstairs were large and well made, Alain looked very proud of them and explained how long it had taken him to make them.

He opened the door at the end of the hallway, to the room facing over the back of the house. Inside was a double bed, large and comfortable looking.

'It took us a long time to get a bed,' Alain said as he led them inside. 'Anyway, I'm sure you're both exhausted, I will leave you in peace now,'

Christine smiled at him, at his generosity, and said, 'Thank you,'

Erik waited until the sound of their host's footsteps had disappeared before he spoke, 'I'm going out tonight,' he said.

Christine slumped onto the edge of the bed and stared down at her lap.

'I told you I was,'

'I wish you wouldn't,' she said.

'You want to know who is doing this don't you?' he asked.

She remained silent, wondering if she really did or not. Wondering if it was worth the danger.

'You want to know who killed Raoul,'

She looked up at him, her heart in her mouth. 'Don't say that,'

'They did kill him Christine,' he said quietly. 'You must want to know who did that to him,' he sighed. 'To you…'

'I…'

He shrugged. 'I'm going anyway, with or without your blessing, Christine,'

'Then go,' she hissed. 'I don't care,'

She wanted him to be angry, she wanted him to be furious but instead he smiled. 'You take the bed, I will have a short nap and then go… I will be back before morning,'

'What if they check on us?'

'They might but I have told Alain that I am going out,' Erik explained. 'He understands,'

'I didn't mean that Erik,' she said softly. 'We're telling people we're married yet not behaving like a married couple, what will they say if they know we have lied?'

'You mean what will they say if they check on us and see that I am sleeping on the floor?'

She nodded, worried that they would lose their home for the next few nights, worried that there would be no food or warmth wherever they went next. Her modesty told her to let Erik sleep on the floor, her common sense said that he should sleep in the bed, 'You'll have to share the bed with me,' her throat felt constricted.

'Try not to sound too pained by that,' he said sarcastically.

'Don't be like that… you know…'

He held his hand up, stopping her explanation. 'I'll share the bed, I'll sleep with my back to you but near to the door,'

Christine nodded.

'Shall we find a cushion to put between us?' he asked seemingly, for once, genuinely concerned about her feelings.

'No, its fine,' she said. 'We will just sleep back to back. You won't be here for most of the night anyway,'

Erik turned his back. 'Get changed then,'

She did as she was told, taking her clothes off and putting her nightdress on. Once she had changed she slipped under the covers. The bed was cold but comfortable and the blankets were thick, it wouldn't take long to warm up. 'I'm done,' she said, when she felt comfortable.

Erik turned around and she watched him carefully as he moved towards the bed and sat on the edge. 'This doesn't feel…'

'Its fine, Erik,' she said, but his tension was almost tangible. To show him that she wasn't nervous she pulled the blanket open for him. 'Come on, you'll freeze,'

'The cold doesn't bother me,'

'You keep telling me that,' she said, with a sigh. 'It bothers _me_ though,'

He was quiet for a moment but finally he lay down, first on his back and then on his side, facing away from Christine. She threw the blanket back over him and immediately felt the warmth from his body radiate through the sheets.

It felt strange to be so close to another man, true Erik had held her only a few nights before but they weren't in a bed, and this was different.

_It was strange. _

She glanced over at him but he didn't move, he didn't stir at all and she wondered if he was already asleep.

Almost glad of the company she turned her back to him and let sleep do the rest.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N; Thank you for all of the great reviews. I didn't have chance to edit and re-work this chapter- so the version you see is the first version. I****'m sorry for any glaring errors or if the chapter doesn't quite flow like the others.**

**Chapter 14**

Erik closed his eyes briefly but didn't sleep, he waited for the sound of Christine's breathing to even out before he slid out of the bed and tiptoed to the door. A twinge in his chest prevented him from opening it and, instead, he turned back to look at Christine, asleep in the darkness. Her hair was still tucked neatly behind her ear and she was sleeping soundly, eyes closed and completely at peace.

He wondered how she did it.

The handle moved under his hand and he slipped through the tiny gap it provided. Gently, he pulled the door closed behind him, trying not to wake her as he moved quietly through the house until he found himself outside near the stables. The horse he had bought was staring at him in silence. He didn't make a move towards nor away from Erik and so he approached and patted him gently on the shoulder.

He nudged him with his nose.

Before he saddled the horse he checked his pockets for the piece of card with the address on it. Certain that it was there he placed the saddle onto the horse, carefully buckling it underneath. He checked the stirrup length, secured the reins and led the horse out from the dark stables into the cold night.

He glanced up to the window where he knew that Christine was sleeping deeply and briefly he longed to be back in the warmth of the bed, so close to her. A sigh escaped as he pulled himself onto the horses back and stroked his mane gently, he responded by puffing out air and shaking his head.

'Sorry to get you up so late,' he whispered to him, and he meant it. He responded by gently plodding forward as Erik guided him with the reigns through the backyard and then finally back into the woodland.

The night was cold but clear, the sky above twinkled with stars and the moon was fresh and bright. The shadows from the trees around him cast ominous shadows that waved to touch him as he picked up speed through the foliage.

Once they were finally through the woodlands he checked his memory, and pulled the reigns to the left following a stone road, the horse's hooves clicking loudly, until they reached a small town. He tapped his pocket and grimaced. He had forgotten to put his watch back in there so he had no idea how long he had been travelling.

Turning his gaze upwards, noting how far the moon had moved and what his body was telling him, he calculated that he had been out of the house for approximately an hour. He slowed the horse down, stroking her neck as he did so, and she clomped gracefully through the middle of the small village.

Ahead was the town clock, mounted on a plinth in the centre of the market square. It was after midnight. There were no candles flickering in any of the windows, curtains were drawn and what little light there was came from the few lit street lamps.

Erik briefly wondered if many people travelled through this way to get back into London.

As they continued through the town, Erik took in his surroundings. There were plenty of buildings along the main stretch of road but beyond that there was very little. A few alleys ran off into the distance but Erik didn't see what he was looking for until he came to the end of the road. Ahead he could just make out plumes of smoke coming from the chimney of a large house tucked back into a wooded area at the edge of the village.

He tugged gently on the reigns and the horse obeyed the command, taking him in the direction of the house. As soon as the windows became visible Erik pulled the horse back and stopped, slipping from the saddle and securing the reigns to a fence close by. He stroked the horse's nose and then turned away, walking towards the house.

There was a light in the bottom window and he could make out the flames of the hearth fire burning away. He crept around the edge of the property before making it to the house. When he got there he remained as low to the floor and as tight to the wall as he could until he reached the window with the light on.

Slowly he glanced in.

There were two men in there, one was sitting sipping what looked like brandy from a large glass. He was short and broad but his stomach was round. The other man was taller, although not as broad or nearly as fat. This man was standing close the fire place, between the fat man and the door, with a sword on his belt.

The guard, Erik assumed, and wondered if there were more.

The house was quite grand and he snuck around to the front door, looking for clues as to whose property he was at. There were none but there were no other guards either. As he was about to round the next corner of the house to find the rear entrance he heard footsteps and ducked behind one of the trees to the side of the house. He held his breath to stop the warm air from his mouth meeting the cool air of the night.

A man approached the door, tall and stocky, he knocked hard. After a few seconds the door creaked open and the dim light from inside the house illuminated the man's face. Erik recognised him immediately as the man that was looking for them at the Bull's Head.

'Did you find them?' the guard from inside the house asked.

'Does it look like I found them?' the man snapped, in the same gruff voice as Erik remembered from the inn.

The guard stared at him coolly before stepping aside and letting the other man enter the house. Once he was inside the guard took a cursory, if a little blasé, glance around. The door closed with a click and Erik let out his breath and smiled. At least he knew that he had the right house.

Erik waited for a minute longer to be sure that there was no one else coming up the pathway. When he was satisfied that he was safe he crawled out from behind the tree and walked to the door.

He knocked and moved aside, pulling the hat he was wearing down over his face.

A moment past before the door creaked back open. 'Who is there?' the guard asked.

Erik remained silent, waiting for the guard the poke his head outside the door. To his credit, the guard repeated his question before making himself completely vulnerable. As he stepped out into the darkness, Erik used the side of his hand to hit the guard across the back of the neck.

Soundlessly the guard slumped to the floor and Erik dragged him to the side. Before he left him in the mud, he checked that the man was still breathing… sure that he was, Erik disarmed him and slipped inside the door of the house, closing it quietly behind him.

The other two men were in the room opposite the entrance hall. He could hear mumbled chattering and could feel the heat of the fire, even in the corridor. Gingerly he crept towards the door, his footsteps light as they always were, until he was just outside.

Slowly, the mumbling ceased and one of the men called out, 'Terry, who is at the door?'

Erik remained silent.

The two men past comment on Terry's inferior brain power before calling out again. Erik didn't spot a pistol on the man from the inn either at the Bull's Head or outside the door.

Erik pushed the door open and walked inside, the warmth from the fire powerful on his chilled skin. The two men stared at him agape but neither moved. Perhaps they were more intelligent than Erik had first given them credit for.

The fat man in the seat looked up at the gruff man and frowned. 'What is he doing here?'

'Isn't this where we wanted him?' the other man asked reasonably.

'Not like this,'

'It's better than nothing…'

Erik closed the door behind him. 'Shut up,' he said, over their bickering. The two men looked at him and the fat man began to laugh.

'Where is Terry?'

Erik stared at him coldly.

'You know,' the fat man said. 'The tall man with the sword,'

Erik glanced down at the sword in his hand and the fat man's face turned sombre. 'Have you killed him?' he asked.

Erik didn't respond, instead he turned to face the other man, who had remained silent during the short exchange. 'You were looking for me,' Erik stated.

The man nodded but there was no fear in his eyes. His earlier question jumped back into his mind… _supremely confident or utterly stupid?_

'Why?' Erik asked, keeping his voice even.

'Where is the woman?' the fat man countered.

The tall man turned and glared at him.

Erik sighed and leant his back against the door, holding the sword firmly in his hand. 'You're not really in a position to be asking questions,'

'This is my house,' the fat man informed him, his face turning a deep shade of red.

'I have the sword,' Erik said.

'Jason also has a sword,' the fat man informed him.

Erik smiled. 'Then perhaps we should settle this now,' he pushed himself away from the door.

The fat man looked up at Jason who made no move for his weapon. 'Jason!'

Jason glared at the fat man.

'Do something,'

'What?'

'Draw your weapon,' the fat man instructed

'You must be joking,' Jason frowned.

'I'm not joking at all,' the fat man said. 'Our orders were to kill him,'

Jason nodded, looking impatient, 'To kill him _and_ to get the woman,'

'And…'

'How do you intend to find the woman if he is dead?'

Erik watched on in some amusement as the severity of the situation dawned on the fat man's face. 'We can't let him go,' he said.

Jason smiled, his dark eyes twinkling. 'I don't really think he _wants_ to go,'

Erik had had enough, 'Why are you looking for her?'

The fat man sighed. 'We have orders,'

'Who are you?'

'Bounty hunters of sorts,'

Jason laughed and the fat man glared at him, 'What's so funny?'

'You're not a bounty hunter,' Jason stated.

'No, but you are and you work for me,'

'Yes, you keep reminding me,'

'Capture him,' the fat man insisted.

'How do you intend I do that?' Jason asked.

'Get your weapon out and over power him,'

Jason sighed and placed his hand on the handle of his sword.

'That wouldn't be wise,' Erik informed him, gripping his own weapon hard.

Jason smiled. 'Yes, I'm starting to get that impression,'

'If you do begin to unsheathe your sword I will be forced to slit your throat, currently, that's entirely unnecessary,' Erik explained.

The fat man was growing restless and impatient, moving in his seat. Erik's attention was on Jason but he could see the fat man out of the corner of his eye and it was a good job, when the man did not think that Erik was paying attention he pulled a sword from beside his chair and leapt towards Erik.

Erik had seen it, had anticipated it and was altogether ready for it.

Erik stepped swiftly to the side and circled around behind the man, knocking the sword from his hand as he did. The clatter of the sword on the wooden floor almost masked the man's yelp as Erik grabbed him from behind, holding him still with the cold blade of the sword to his throat.

Jason's eyes twinkled in the light of the fire. 'This is why you aren't a bounty hunter,' Jason informed the fat man.

The fat man struggled uselessly until Erik became annoyed at the to-ing and fro-ing and whispered in his ear, 'Stay still or I will kill you,'

The man slowly stopped his struggle and looked helplessly towards Jason.

'You're a fool Charles,' Jason said with a roll of his eyes.

'Do something,' Charles said quietly.

'What?' Jason shrugged. 'What would you have me do in this situation?'

'Get him off me,' Charles suggested.

'How, Charles? You buffoon,' Jason chuckled lightly. 'The moment I reach for my sword he slits your throat, throws you in my direction setting me off balance and then he disarms me, as he did you,'

Maybe Jason was more intelligent than Erik had given him credit for. So it was supremely confident then, and not that he was a complete idiot.

Charles fell silent.

'Perhaps we can bargain?' Jason asked, turning his dark eyes onto Erik.

Erik stared at him.

'Obviously you're not a man to be messed with,' Jason stated. 'So, I will tell you what you want to know and then you will leave,' the bounty hunter looked at his boss briefly. 'I suppose I ought to fight for his life too… so you leave us both alive,'

'What do you know?' Erik asked, keeping his grip on Charles.

'Do we have a deal?'

'That's entirely dependant on what you tell me,' Erik said. 'I could just kill you both now and that would be two less people to worry about,'

'You could but there would be more,'

Erik said nothing.

'Fine,' Jason said, 'I don't know who we are working for, Charles?'

Charles shook his head. 'Anonymous but important. A lot of money,'

'What for?' Erik asked.

'You dead, the woman alive,'

'Why?'

Jason sighed. 'Apparently your lady has something that someone very important wants,'

'What?'

'Something incriminating is all we were told,' Jason explained. 'The assignment arrived by post, the courier refused to tell us who sent him. In the envelope was a letter explaining the situation and a description of you and the woman... Christine, I believe,'

Hearing him speak Christine's name sent chills along Erik's spine and he felt his grip tighten involuntarily on Charles and on his sword.

'Also in the envelope was a lot of money and the promise of more to come when the assignment was complete,'

'How were you supposed to get us to them if you don't know who they are?'

'They were going to collect you from here in a week,' Jason said. 'Your body and Christine in one piece,'

'What is your name?' Erik asked, tugging his sword tighter to Charles' throat.

'You know my name…'

'_Surname_,' Erik demanded.

'Emerson,'

'Why should I allow you to live?' Erik asked, 'Either of you,'

Jason shrugged.

'I let you live,' Erik said. 'And you leave us alone,'

Charles began to struggled again.

'Do you have a problem with that?'

As he was about to answer, the door to the room opened and Terry stumbled in, looking dazed and confused. Erik threw Charles to the ground, grabbing Terry and holding the sword to his throat.

'I'm not a fair man,' Erik said simply. 'To prove to you that I am not in any mood to negotiate terms with you, I'm going to show you how I usually deal with people who cross me. If I find that you have tried to get to us again I will kill you both, then I will find your families and I will kill them,'

Jason stared at him with cold eyes but Charles smiled. 'A little dramatic aren't you old boy?'

Jason shook his head, knowing what was coming. Erik slowly but deliberately drew the sword across Terry's throat, blood began to pour but Terry did not struggle, he simply slumped the floor, a retched gurgling noise escaping as he attempted to breath through the blood pooling in his mouth.

Erik let him fall and then turned to Charles with the now bloody sword pointing out towards him. 'Do I make myself clear?' he asked.

Charles' face had turned green. He nodded.

Erik turned to Jason. 'And you?'

'I understand,' Jason answered. 'You're exactly what they said you were…'

'What is that?'

'A cold, murdering bastard,'

Erik smiled, backed out of the room and closed the door.


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: There will be plot development but I stress again that this is not so much about the mystery as it is about Erik and Christine's journey. Some chapters might seem irrelevant to some people, but all of them have some purpose. Alain and Ines are there to give Erik somewhere he feels Christine might be safe… they are there to give Christine the view of what it feels like to be in love for your entire life, to still love deeply when you're old… when you have been through a lot.**

**A lesson the whole world could learn.**

**Please review. I have approximately 6 more chapters pre written. I suspect the whole story will be around 40 chapters long.**

**Chapter 15**

Christine was in the kitchen eating toast when Erik finally came downstairs. She didn't hear him leave in the night but she had felt him return in the early hours of the morning, his body had been cold as his back touched hers when he climbed into the bed. She had pretended to be asleep, wondering if he would wake her with any news.

Erik hadn't made a sound but she had waited for long enough to hear his breathing alter into the soft, slow rhythms of sleep. She was awake a little longer but she couldn't even remember feeling drowsy, the next thing she had known was the sensation of sunlight on her face as morning poured in through the bedroom window.

Christine looked up at him as he walked in. Despite his late night his eyes were crystal clear, his face looked calm and he was no paler than usual. She did notice the tension in his body though, as he sat at the table next to her.

She smiled at him as they made eye contact.

To her surprise, he smiled back.

Ines bustled into the room carrying two bowls of steaming porridge. She placed one on the mat in front of Erik and handed him a spoon. 'I have jam if you would like some in your breakfast,'

Erik shook his head but thanked her anyway.

'Porridge for you, Christine?' Ines asked.

She smiled and took the second bowl and the offer of raspberry jam. A few minutes later, as they waited for their breakfast to cool, Alain walked in, kicking off his boots as he had done the day before, and sat at the end of the table. Ines was quick to respond and placed a fresh bowl of oats in from of her husband.

He touched her hand warmly as she walked away and Christine felt at twinge in her heart.

'Did you sleep well?' Alain asked, as Ines took the last seat at the table and began to finally eat her own breakfast.

Christine nodded. 'Yes, thank you,' she looked at Ines, 'Breakfast is delicious,'

Ines blushed.

Breakfast went by quickly and although Erik said very little, the conversation flowed between Christine, Ines and Alain. Christine concluded that they were good people, stuck in Paris in the wrong place and at the wrong time. When Christine helped to clear the plates away and wash them, Erik wandered into the yard with Alain.

Christine spent the day by the warm fire, helping Ines sew clothing and knit. They didn't talk much while they worked but Christine felt warm and at home. Ines and Alain made them feel very welcome.

As night began to draw in, Alain and Erik came back into the house and Ines finished preparing dinner, which was pheasant and roasted potatoes, much to Christine's delight. They ate in warmth and comfort and pleasant company, Christine learnt more of the couple's struggle to escape from Paris and their hard life building a home for themselves in England.

Occasionally, Christine would sneak at glance at Erik, who remained silent through almost the entire night. She realised that she hadn't had the opportunity to speak to him about his escapades the night before but she was simply glad to see him alive.

When they retired to bed, Erik closed the door and turned, allowing her to change. Then she did the same. This time, when she got into bed, she stayed propped up until Erik climbed in next to her.

'What happened?' she asked him, finally able to do so.

He glanced at her but said nothing. Instead he shuffled himself down under the blankets so that he was lying on his back staring at the ceiling.

'Answer me,' she demanded.

His eyes grew dark in the candlelight.

She sighed. 'I'm sorry,'

Still, nothing.

'I don't think I have heard you speak today,' she prompted gently.

'I haven't had much to say,' he said quietly.

She let the silence linger between them for a while before she too moved herself down in the bed so that she was lying on her back. 'Did you find what you were looking for last night?'

'In a sense, yes,' he finally answered. 'But I'm still none the wiser,'

She turned her face towards him. 'Who was there?'

'There were three men,' Erik replied. 'I got their names,'

She sighed and rolled onto her side. 'How?'

'I asked,'

She felt her heart sink. 'I don't want to know anymore than that, do I?'

'Probably not,'

She swallowed. 'Just tell me that they'll leave us alone now,'

'I think the people I saw last night understand me,' Erik said. 'But there will be others,'

'I see,' she said, holding back her tears. 'Who is it?'

'I got the name of the man in charge of their operation there,' Erik said. 'I need to speak to Nadir,'

Christine spun around. 'You must be mad!'

'Keep your voice down,' Erik hissed.

Despite his words she could barely contain her anger. 'He got us into this situation in the first place,'

'Your brother in law got us into this situation when he gave you that damned envelope,' Erik snapped back, although not loudly. 'Nadir helped us,'

'How do you know it wasn't him that…'

'I've already gone through this,' he said quietly. 'It wasn't Nadir,'

'And you're willing to risk our lives on that?' she said.

'_My_ life,' he corrected. 'You're staying here,'

'So you concede I might be right,'

'Absolutely not,' Erik said. 'It's dangerous for you to go to London, not for you to see Nadir.'

She fell silent, feeling her heart hammering hard in her chest.

'Nadir is a good man,' Erik whispered. 'You have no idea,'

Christine sighed. 'Then tell me because at this moment… I don't trust him. I don't trust him one bit. You were nearly killed in his house…'

'I wasn't,'

'You could have been,'

'But I wasn't,' he repeated.

'That's not the point, Erik,' she felt her face grow hot, her eyes stung, her throat closed… tears… 'It just isn't the point,'

Erik fell silent.

Christine could taste the salt from her tears as they rolled onto her lips and trickled onto her mouth. She didn't know where they had come from but they were there. She wasn't sobbing, not like when she thought of Raoul, but the tears were real and flowing freely.

Erik turned his face to look at her. She could almost feel the heat of his eyes. 'You're crying,' he stated.

She turned her head and looked out of the window, away from him.

'Why?' he asked.

She used her fingers to wipe the moisture from her eyes. 'You're so pigheaded,'

He laughed gently. 'You're crying because I'm pigheaded?'

'I'm crying because I don't want you to die,' she said.

'That might just be the nicest thing you've ever said to me,' he joked and despite herself she found that she was smiling.

She felt him move and get out of the bed. He walked around to the window and stood, blocking her view. 'I'm fine,' he said.

'I know,' she said.

'Nadir won't kill me, Christine,'

She bowed her head and stared at the bed clothes covering her lap. When she looked back up, Erik was looking out of the window into the distance. 'Night is always my favourite part of a day,'

She watched him, watched the shimmer of the moon reflect along the lines of his white mask, watched him think.

'It's so free,' he said. 'Unencumbered,'

She opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it. Instead she listened.

'The day time is so restrictive,' he explained. 'People everywhere, watching you, seeing you. At night you can be yourself, you can hide… you can pretend that you're something you're not,'

She stared at him. 'What do you pretend you are?' she asked.

He turned and walked to the door, glancing at her as he past the bed, blue eyes a glitter in the darkness. There was sadness contained within them as he smiled and opened the door. 'I pretend I'm the kind of man that a woman like you would cry for,' he said softly, as he closed the door behind him.

* * *

Erik had come back to the room that night but Christine had not heard him. When she woke up he was already dressed and eating breakfast. The kitchen was warm and welcoming when she walked in and Ines greeted her with friendliness as she always seemed to.

Alain walked through the living room door and sat at the end of table, he glanced at Erik. 'The horse is ready,' he said.

Erik nodded. 'Thank you,'

Christine looked at him. 'Where are you going?'

'London,'

'Erik…'

'You'll stay here,' Erik interrupted, his voice gentle. 'Alain and Ines have said that you're welcome to stay for as long as you like,'

Christine knew that it was irrational but she felt fear grip her heart anyway. 'How long will you be gone?' she asked, and then swallowed hard. Her mouth and throat were as dry as dust.

'No more than a day or two,'

'Erik…'

'You'll be fine,' Erik insisted.

Alain nodded. 'Nothing will happen to you here,'

'You didn't discuss this with me, Erik,'

Alain was smiling. 'Sometimes a husband has to do things that his wife wouldn't necessarily agree with,'

Christine wanted to scream that Erik was not her husband, he was her friend, she had already lost her husband. She wanted to scream that she couldn't bear to lose him too but she remained silent, her appetite gone as she poked her spoon into the oats on the table.

An hour past by, Alain and Ines talked enthusiastically and Christine felt more nauseous by the second, more nauseous than she had done in weeks. Erik rose from the table, excusing himself politely, and walked out the back door. Christine followed him into the stables and grabbed his arm.

He spun around so fiercely that Christine backed away from him afraid that he might strike her. Erik simply shook his head. 'Why are you still scared of me?' he demanded, gold flecks punctuating the blue of his eyes.

She swallowed hard but couldn't find the words to answer him.

He turned his back on her and tugged at the horse's reigns. 'I would never hurt you, Christine, when have I _ever_ hurt you?'

She couldn't answer him because the answer was too simple. He had never laid his hands on her in anger, he had never raised his hand or fist, never kicked out or grabbed her throat.

'I've never and _will_ _never_ hurt you,' he said quietly. 'You're a fool to think that I would,'

'I'm sorry,' she croaked out.

He glanced over his shoulder.

'I shouldn't have grabbed you,'

'It's fine,' he said.

'Please don't go, Erik,'

'I have to,'

'You _don't_,' she said. 'You can stay here,'

'I need to know who is doing this and I need to know why,' he responded.

'Why?' she asked.

'If I don't know who it is, how can I stop them?'

'Then we'll just get out of the country,' she said reasonably.

'If the document is that important to them, then that probably won't help us,' Erik said.

'Please Erik…' she said desperately. 'Don't go to London, it's dangerous,'

'I know,'

'Erik,' she pleaded, 'What if something happens to you? What will I do? How will I even know?'

'You'll know when I'm not back before the end of the week,' he reasoned.

'And what will happen to me then?' she asked.

He glanced at her but said nothing.

She opened her mouth to plead with him again but shook her head instead. 'I'm not going to be able to change your mind, am I?'

Without saying anything he pulled himself onto the back of the horse and moved around the stable so that he was next to Christine.

He reached down and grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently. 'I'll see you in a day or two,'

She gritted her teeth, fending off tears.

'I promise,'

And she guessed that that was enough.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

London hadn't changed much in the time Erik and Christine had been gone. The last time he saw it was the dead of night and in the bright light of day the town looked no different to him. He stabled the house only a quarter of a mile from Nadirs home, paying very little for the privilege with the promise of more money on his return, if the horse was in good condition.

Erik hoped it wouldn't take long enough for anything to go seriously awry.

The town past him by as he strolled confidently through, keeping his hat low across his face and his cape pulled around him, to keep him warm. The wind was fierce but there were no clouds in the sky and occasionally Erik had to place his hand on his hat, to stop it from blowing away.

He approached the alleyway to Nadir's house with caution, keeping his eyes peeled around him as he moved as quietly and as inconspicuously as he could. He rapped his knuckles against the door and waited.

When the door creaked open he pushed his way inside and stood in the centre of the room, looking around for Michelle as he did. As he glanced back up Nadir shook his head. 'She's not here,'

Erik glared at him, 'Where is she?'

'She ran away,' Nadir said. 'Hardly surprising really,'

Erik grunted and sat in the chair by the fire, warming his hands.

'Are you here to kill her?'

'No,' Erik shook his head. 'But it might have been an added bonus,'

Nadir nodded his head sagely and sat in the seat opposite Erik. 'I'm sorry,'

Erik leaned back in his chair and regarded his friend, 'What for?'

'For what she did,' Nadir replied. He looked sincere enough but Erik knew you could never really be too careful. Despite what he had said to Christine, Erik did not wholly trust the Persian, as he would never really trust anyone else. 'I had nothing to do with it, Erik,'

He said nothing.

'I wouldn't be foolish enough,' Nadir explained gravely.

'I know,' Erik said and sighed. 'What happened to the body?'

Nadir shrugged. 'I'm not really sure, I assume his own people took it because when I got home I found blood all over the bathroom and Michelle crying like a little girl,'

'What did she say to you?'

'Not much,' he said. 'But she told me someone had been killed by you,'

'Did she admit her involvement?' Erik asked.

'Quite the opposite, she denied any knowledge of what had happened,' Nadir smiled ruefully. 'But I'm not fool Erik, they could never have found you without her, not here,'

Erik nodded.

'I told her that I didn't believe her,' Nadir continued. 'I told her I hoped they had paid her well because she would be running for a long time,'

This brought a smile to Erik's lips.

'She was an idiot to cross you and I made sure she understood what the consequences of her actions were likely to be,' Nadir said. 'I think she believed me… but she obviously saw the body, she saw that you had both escaped alive. Even Michelle could have worked out for herself that she was probably in danger,'

'I hadn't planned to kill her,'

'You lie so smoothly, Phantom,' Nadir smiled.

Erik smiled back at his friend. 'Not yet, anyway,'

'So, if you are not here for Michelle, then pray tell…' Nadir said. 'Why are you here?'

'I need some information,' Erik said.

'Hmm,'

'Fast,'

'What sort of information?' Nadir asked, although they both knew that the Persian would do whatever he could to help.

'I have a name,'

'Go on,'

'Charles Emerson,' Erik said. 'Mean anything to you?'

Nadir shook his head.

'He runs some sort of bounty hunting business,' Erik explained calmly. 'He has working with him a man named Jason… I didn't get a surname,'

'What do you need to know?'

'Who he is, what his family consists of and who he regularly does business for,' Erik said. 'I'm under the impression he probably doesn't do a lot of work for the police,'

Nadir smiled. 'I'll see what I can do,'

'How quickly?' Erik asked.

Nadir must have sensed the urgency in his voice because he asked, 'Are you onto something then?'

'I don't know yet,'

'Tomorrow,' Nadir said. 'Tonight, you sleep here, we'll eat well… there is some deer in the pantry,'

Erik laughed. 'And you're going to cook it?'

Nadir looked hurt, 'Why not?'

'I'll think I'll give it a miss,'

'Very funny,' Nadir grumbled. Silence dropped into the room and Erik closed his eyes briefly, listening to the crisp crackle of the fire as the wood snapped under its heat.

Nadir let the quiet linger for a while before asking, 'Where is Christine?'

Erik sighed. 'Somewhere I believe she will be safe… at least temporarily,'

'As long as she is safe,'

Erik stared at his friend, 'Have you forgotten that you don't like her?'

Nadir grinned, 'Ah but I would not see her harmed,' he paused. 'Nor you,'

'I'm fine,'

'Currently, you're fine,'

'Cook me some venison Daroga, I'm hungry,'

And that was it.

The conversation was over.

* * *

When the second day past by, Christine began to worry. She had this feeling in her stomach, a queasy feeling that prevented her from eating or making real conversation. Ines and Alain treated her well and they even seemed to understand her sudden withdrawal. On the fourth morning, as Christine washed some bed clothes in a bowl by the fire, Ines came into the room and sat opposite her.

The old woman stared at her for a while before saying, 'You miss him,'

Christine blinked. 'I'm worried about him,'

Ines nodded her head sagely and said, 'He seems an intelligent man, your husband,'

This, at least, brought a small smile to Christine's lips. 'He is,' she said. 'You have no idea…'

'I'm sure he is fine,'

Christine gritted her teeth, fear of what might happen if Erik was gone gripped her stomach like a vice.

Ines sighed. 'He is strong, he is intelligent… he will be fine,'

'He should be back by now,' Christine said.

'Maybe his quest is taking just a little longer than expected,' Ines opened her mouth again but stopped at the sound of the back door creaking open.

Christine looked up and saw Erik's blue eyes peering back down at her. She let go of the cloth in her hands and heard it slip into the basin, making a watery slurping noise.

'You're here,' she said softly, taking in the sight of his face, _unharmed_…

He nodded.

She was going to chastise him, tell him off for being gone longer than he had said, for leaving her alone, for ignoring her pleas… but all she could do was smile slightly and say, 'I'm glad,'

That brought a smile to Erik's lips, though it was brief at best. Ines excused herself quickly and when she was gone, Erik took her place in the seat opposite Christine.

'How was Nadir?' she asked after a moment's silence.

'He's fine,' Erik answered tilting his head to the side as he looked at her. 'How are you?'

She looked down at her hands which were red from rubbing cloth against the washboard in the hot water. 'I'm… I was worried,'

Erik didn't say anything.

'I was worried about you,' she said, as if that would change anything. 'You were gone longer than I expected…'

Erik nodded, 'It took longer than I thought it would,'

There was no point pushing the subject any further and so she asked, 'What did you find?'

'Charles Emerson is rarely commissioned by the police for his services,' Erik replied. 'But we expected that anyway, as his methods aren't entirely kosher and the police are an arrogant bunch… probably wouldn't ask for the help despite being in dire need of it,'

Christine smiled. 'I shouldn't expect you to respect the police should I?'

Erik looked at her. 'Do you respect them?'

'I used to,'

'But not now, not after the ridiculous witch hunt they have for you,' Erik said. 'A little investigative work… what they're paid for… would discover what I have uncovered,'

'And what have you uncovered?' Christine asked.

'Charles Emerson runs a legitimate business in bounty hunting,' Erik said. 'But most bounties would be commissioned by the police or jailers, due to the nature of the job,'

Christine nodded, waiting patiently for him to continue.

'But it would appear he gets very little work from the police or from the jails,' Erik explained. 'Most of his business is privately commissioned, which is a little unusual, but not altogether illegal,' he sighed. 'Hence legitimate business,'

'Who pays him?'

'Whoever is willing to, it would appear,' Erik replied. 'Nadir spoke to his friend in the police who told him that Charles Emerson and his gang of goons are rather a well known outfit,'

'Really?'

He nodded. 'They're very good at what they do, apparently, which is why when some of the Queen's jewels went missing around four years ago, Charles was commissioned to find the thief,'

'The Queen?'

Erik nodded.

'The guard…'

Again, he nodded. 'You're applying the same thought process as I did,' Erik said. 'This Robert Davies hasn't been mentioned, of course, but the Queen certainly wouldn't arrange her own bounty hunter, would she?'

'I expect not,' Christine said, though her throat felt dry and constricted.

'So, it would appear that Robert Davies is quite tightly wound into this little plot,' Erik said.

'Did Nadir find anything about him?'

Erik smiled. 'Nadir is nothing if not thorough. That's why I was away for so long,'

'What do we know about him?'

'He is in his early thirties and has been a guard of some description since the very tender age of eighteen,' Erik recounted what Nadir had told him. 'His father was also a palace guard until his death six years ago,' He leaned forward. 'The difference between father and son is that the son is rather more ambitious,'

'How so?'

'He isn't a simple royal guard,' Erik explained. 'He guards the royals personally… not a palace guard or an aides guard, _personally_,'

'The Queen?'

Erik shook his head. 'The princes, though,'

'Nadir told us this…'

'He is the head guard…' Erik let his voice trail off. 'Nadir didn't tell us that he is the head guard… over the heir and _all_ of the princes,'

'So, what has he got to do with us?'

'He must have sent William Astworth for the document that Philippe gave to Raoul,'

Again the sound of her husbands name made her shiver as cold sadness washed over her.

'What do we do now?'

Erik shook his head. 'I need to know what's in that document,'

'I don't think that is a good idea,' Christine said.

'It's the only way we will know for sure what is going on,' Erik said patiently but fear gripped Christine's heart.

'Maybe we could ask Robert Davies,'

Erik smiled. 'Just approach him and ask him?'

She nodded her head, liking that idea far better than ever knowing what was in the document.

'So you're suggesting that we simply walk up to the royal guard, the one who had your husband killed and is now stalking you, and ask him what he is doing?'

Christine felt her cheeks redden.

'We can't do that, Christine,' he said, but his voice was soft.

She nodded. 'I know,'

'We will have a few more days here,' Erik said. 'I was definitely not followed and we haven't been found here yet… a few more days, and then we must go,'

'I understand,' she said. 'But when we leave, let us leave the document behind and run,'

He shook his head.

'I'll be with you,' she said. 'We'll be running together, we'll be fine,'

'I need to know now,'

'Why?'

'They're trying to capture you,'

'Yes, I know that…'

'And kill me,' he said. 'It's really quite personal now,'

'You're worried for your life?' she asked, surprised.

He shook his head. 'Only for yours,'

'If I gave them the document…'

'They would kill you,'

'Perhaps they would see that it is sealed and let me live,' she suggested.

'Christine,' Erik said softly. 'They will kill you, either way, they will kill you,'

She squeezed her eyes closed. 'A few more days here then,'

'Just a few,'

'Are you taking me with you to get the envelope?' she asked.

'Yes,' he said. 'I don't want to risk leaving you alone again,'

'Has Alain agreed to let us stay a little while longer?'

'I think they're quite glad of the company,' he replied.

He stood to leave the room as Christine asked him, 'What will you do when you know who is behind this whole thing?'

Erik walked away letting the question hang in the silence of the room.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: I managed a brief review of the last chapter but this goes up unedited. I almost gave up on this whole thing, despite having 22 chapters written. I might give up yet, I haven't decided but for now, I'm still writing it.**

**For those E/C lovers, chapters 18-22 are definitely for you… there are some _moments_. I can't say whether they will be together come the end of the story- I never do- but they have moments.**

**Chapter 17**

A few days turned into just over week.

Christine was woken on the ninth morning by Erik gently shaking her shoulder. His fingers were cold on her skin and she shuddered involuntarily, regretting it immediately, but Erik didn't seem to notice.

'Christine,' he said, quietly, almost gently.

She blinked again and tried to get her eyes to adjust to the light pouring into the room. 'What's wrong?' she asked.

'Nothing,' he replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. 'But we have to go,'

'Now?'

He nodded and her heart suddenly felt like lead.

'Why?' she asked, feeling more awake, more worried. 'Who's here, what's going on?'

'No one is here,' he said gently. 'But we should start moving,'

'This seems a little bit… _sudden_,'

He smiled and stood up. 'It's just time, that's all, I don't want you to worry,'

'But I _am_ worried,'

He knelt down by the side of the bed and stared into her eyes, the sheer blueness and intensity of them unnerving her momentarily. 'I promise you,' he said softly. 'There is no one here, there is nothing going on… but we can't allow ourselves to get too comfortable,'

She continued to look into his eyes until she felt something other than fear and finally, she blinked and looked away.

Erik pushed himself back to his feet and looked at her earnestly. 'I know you feel at home here,' he told her. 'And I really am sorry, but we don't want to outstay our welcome and we certainly don't want to bring any danger to this house,'

She nodded, understanding but still wanting to stay. She knew that it was impossible, that there was really no choice. It was time to move on from their new friends and the thought of being out in the cold frightened her.

Without saying another word Erik walked out of the room, carefully clicking the door closed behind him. Christine looked over at the bowl of warm water he had bought in and bar of soap sitting next to it. There was a towel and fresh clothes and for a moment Christine was taken aback by his thoughtfulness.

She climbed out of bed and walked over to the bowl, making sure that she washed carefully and thoroughly, Lord only knew when she would next be able to bathe. When she picked up the towel it was warm and Christine knew that Erik had hung it in front of the fire before he brought it up. When she dressed, her clothes were warm too.

Downstairs she found a hot breakfast of rolls, ham, porridge and fruit waiting. Strong tea and some fresh, boiled milk. She glanced at Erik as she ate but he was busy staring out of the window, his strong profile casting a shadow onto the table.

She sipped at the tea and savoured its flavour, knowing it might be the last time she drank tea in a while. The porridge was good and hot, the bread rolls freshly baked and absolutely delicious. She closed her eyes as she chewed, willing her mind to store the taste of the food so that she could recall it later… when she needed it.

The conversation was light as always, Erik was silent for the most part, _as always_.

Eventually, Erik stood and told them they had to go. Obviously, he had already spoken to them about it because they simply nodded. Ines rose from her seat and went into her pantry where she had packed two small sacks of food for them to take on their journey. Christine felt her heart flutter with gratitude.

Ines hugged her and then Erik, whose body stiffened slightly but did not repel the kind old lady. Alain shook Erik's hand firmly and thanked him for his help on the farm. Erik shook his head, telling Alain that it was he that should be thankful… it was nothing but the truth.

'Be careful!' Ines said to them as they mounted the horses.

Christine smiled down at her. 'We will,'

Erik was staring at her, he had seen the tears welling in her eyes and she could tell that he wanted to go before he had to deal with another emotional scene. He began to move the horse out of the backyard. 'Thank you again,' Erik said to Alain as Christine caught up to him.

'You're welcome,' Alain responded.

Ines smiled, she too had pools of tears in her eyes, 'You're always welcome here,'

'Thank you,' Christine said, but could say no more as the words caught in her throat and Erik called her away.

They trekked back through the woodland that surrounded the house without once looking back, despite the urge in her heart to do so. The air was cold and rough on her skin and she realised that Erik was right. They couldn't run forever.

As they found the first village on their road she saw Christmas wreaths on doors and the tree in the centre of the town was decorated with baubles and ribbons and her heart sank. Her mind had so lost track of time she did not even know that it was December, never mind Christmas. Obviously, Ines and Alain did not celebrate the season.

She rode by Erik's side and asked, 'What's the date today, do you know?'

He glanced at her. 'I believe its Christmas eve,'

'You know the date then,' she shook her head.

'Only because I saw a newspaper when I was at Nadir's home,' he said, sensing the sadness in her voice. 'I was there until ten days ago, which was the fourteenth of December,'

She was silent for a while, thoughts of her life years ago flooding her mind. When they finally made it through the village and came out the other side, into fields and farms, she said, 'I used to love Christmas,'

He glanced at her, 'You don't anymore,'

Not a question, a statement, but Christine carried on anyway, 'Not really, not since my father died,'

Erik frowned. 'Did you not enjoy Christmas with Raoul?'

'I did,' she replied. 'But it was never quite the same after my father died, it never really felt like the joyous occasion it was supposed to be,'

Erik was silent.

'Raoul tried,' she continued. 'But his efforts were in vain because he simply could not bring my childhood back…' she sighed, looked over at him. 'Do you like Christmas?'

'No,'

She wasn't surprised but she asked anyway, 'Why not?'

'What is there to like?' Erik asked as another, smaller, village appeared in the distance. 'I never knew Christmas when I was a boy and as an adult I just found it a little… _empty_,'

Christine felt a twinge of pain in her heart for all of the things that Erik had missed out on in his life. 'I suppose Christmas is about families,' she said. 'My father used to make it so much fun… he used to hide my presents and we would have treasure hunts. Then, at night, he would play the violin while I sang carols in front of the fire,'

Erik didn't reply but she felt his eyes on her.

'It seems like a fantasy now, it was so long ago,' she said. 'I know that my father often felt bad that he couldn't afford to buy me the expensive gifts some of our neighbours could buy… I wish I could tell him that it never mattered to me,'

'I think he probably knew,' Erik said gently as the hooves of the horses met the cobblestone of the start of the next village. Dusk was settling like a blanket.

'How could he know?' she asked.

'The look on your face would have been enough for him, Christine,' Erik said. 'The smile you show when you're happy, truly happy, I'm sure it would have been enough,'

Christine didn't know what to say so she reached across and squeezed the hand that he was resting on his knee.

He didn't move away but he didn't look at her either.

She left her hand there for as long as it felt comfortable to do so. Until it started to ache.

In the centre of the lane Erik pulled his horse to a stop, the inn next to him casting a shadow over the cobblestones.

'Wait here,' he said, as he slid off the horse and walked into the inn.

Christine sat there, waiting as she had been told, until he emerged, scooped the horses reins up and led then around the side of the building.

* * *

Erik had clearly been satisfied with what he found inside because they soon found themselves cleaning up in the bedroom at the rear of the building, on the first floor. It was cold but comfortable and not long past before they went down to the lounge area, where they found men and woman sitting around, drinking wine, talking of Christmas and happiness. She couldn't help but feel caught up in the atmosphere and soon she was chatting to a woman at the next table. They talked of Christmas as children, of their families, of their passions.

Soon, as the ale flowed into the men, one of them took up the small piano in the corner of the room and they began singing Christmas songs with joyous abandonment. The clock ticked and ticked and Christine lost herself in the music, no matter how poorly played and badly sung, it didn't matter to her. What mattered was that she was safe and alive, that she was in warmth and comfort and that Erik didn't seem too unhappy himself, as he stood by the quietly fire.

When midnight came around the inn keeper asked them all politely if they would begin to finish their drinks and head to their rooms.

'One more song,' the man at the piano said, a grin splashed across his face so wide it almost touched his ears.

The inn keeper rolled his eyes but nodded his head anyway.

His fingers ran across the keys and although the introduction was slightly out of tune, she recognised the carol immediately. She smiled, it was one of her favourites.

The gentlemen in the room gathered around and began to sing together, in as much harmony as they could manage, '_O' Holy night, the stars are brightly shining…_'

Everyone watching smiled and swayed, giggled at the off notes but it wasn't until they heard the voice of an angel that they all stopped and looked around.

Erik stood next to the piano, '_A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices, For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn…_' he sang softly… so softly… he picked his voice up, rose to the notes, the meaning in the song, '_Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices! O night divine, the night when Christ was born…'_

Christine stared at him, unable to move a muscle, so fixated by his voice she felt as though all of the air in her lungs had rushed right out. This is what he did when he sang… _this_ is how he made her feel.

Swept away.

Slowly, she realised that the piano player no longer played, the other men no longer sang, there was no giggling, no laughing, no words other than Erik's beautiful song. They all sat, as still as she, and stared in his direction, even the inn keeper had put down his glasses the listen, knowing somehow that they were witnessing something magnificent.

The crescendo of the song was glorious to her ears, like a golden touch, so perfect and pure.

She had forgotten.

How could she have forgotten how wonderful it was to hear him sing, how his voice could stop the entire world?

He stopped, looking almost embarrassed, and glanced over at her. She was open mouthed but somehow managed a smile. The stunned crowd around them suddenly leapt to their feet applauding and cheering, asking for more… _begging_ for more. Erik did not oblige though, it was as if the singing had taken it all out of him. He smiled and declined, despite their friendly protests.

As he walked past them towards their room they patted his back, clapped their hands, cheered and congratulated him. Christine followed him like a puppy, unable to drag her eyes away from him.

Back at the room she said nothing to him, just smiled and tucked herself into bed.

What could she say? How could she tell him that every time he sang, even now, her heart left her body and floated to him?

How could she tell him how happy he had made her feel just by opening his mouth?


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

For the first time in a very long time, Christine had prayed on Christmas morning.

While Erik had washed and changed out of his bed clothes, she had stood outside, clasped her hands together, squeezed her eyes shut and prayed that she and Erik would both be alright. Seeing the other side of him, the warmer side, usually unsettled her a little but last night, as he sang by the fire, all eyes on him, she had felt nothing but gratitude.

Her prayer had been simple, brief and heartfelt. She had asked the Lord to forgive her for her long absence from Him and begged that she and Erik would be saved. She had stressed that Erik should be saved most of all, because despite his faults and his past, there was good in him. When he looked for it, it often found its way to the surface.

On Christmas morning she had woken early and fresh, sleep came easily and whatever dreams she had, they neither woke her nor terrified her. She was up and dressed quickly, oddly excited that it was Christmas day. She felt as though Erik had given her a gift and when she made her way downstairs, he was waiting quietly with a cup of tea, steam pouring from the rim.

She looked at him and smiled. 'Good morning,' she said.

'Merry Christmas,' he replied and she detected a rare twinkle in his eyes. She sat at his side and he poured her a drink from the tea pot.

'Merry Christmas,' she said as she raised her mug and clinked it against his.

He stared at her for what seemed an eternity before she could take no more, blushed and glanced away. 'I know it isn't champagne,' she said.

'Champagne?' he asked. 'It's barely even tea,'

She looked back at him only to find that he had broken into a smile. The silence that settled was, for perhaps the first time, not uncomfortable… it was just quiet. People began to filter into the room and some of the men from the previous night patted his shoulder as they walked past him. Erik winced but didn't hurt anyone, which as far as Christine was concerned, was an improvement of epic proportions.

Once people had started sitting down, he leant across the table and whispered. 'I have never tried champagne,'

Although the information wasn't much, it felt like a confidence and Christine smiled at him, 'Once this is over, I shall find you the best bottle of champagne and we will drink it to celebrate,'

Erik tried a smile but this one came as forced and she asked him what he was thinking.

'Nothing,' he said and she felt that it wasn't wise to ask him to elaborate. He certainly wasn't a man that expressed his feelings often. This was one of those times where he had found something in her words but did not want her to hear what it was. There had been times like that in the past, where she had pushed him and he had withdrawn from her. Their friendship had improved over the months and his withdrawal was the last thing she wanted.

She sipped her tea and looked out of the window, her eyes widened and she smiled. 'It's snowing,'

Erik turned to see and then without saying anything he nodded.

'It's… beautiful,' she whispered, as she watched the flakes drift listlessly to the ground and powder it white. 'It's been a long time since I've seen snow on Christmas day,'

Abruptly, Erik stood, placing his mug on the table and grabbing Christine's hand. He pulled her, not roughly, past the coat rack, grabbing someone's woollen jacket as he did. He threw the jacket over her shoulders and pulled her outside where the snow fell over them and coated their shoulders.

He loosed her hand, held his out and caught a flake in his palm. It melted slowly on Erik's cold skin and Christine had time to make out the pattern it made when it landed.

'I always liked the snow,' Erik said, as he began to walk along the quiet street. 'The cold suits me,'

She followed him, letting snowflakes nestle in her hair as she tugged the wool coat around her shoulders. 'Why did you bring me out here?' she asked him.

He turned to face her, shrugged his shoulders, 'I thought you might want to see the pleasant side of it before we have to travel in it,'

Christine sighed. 'How long will we stay at the Inn?' she asked.

He began to walk back in the direction they had come from. 'For a while,'

Erik opened the door and waited as Christine walked through it. The heat in the room was such a contrast to the cold outside that it felt like it was burning her. She quickly shrugged the woollen coat from her shoulders and hung it back on the rack. When she turned she saw that Erik had been surrounded by the men he had met the previous night, they were talking to him, laughing… not even noticing the mask he wore. None of them seemed to care.

As they talked, Erik's gaze wandered over and Christine met his eyes. They were imploring her to rescue him but instead she smiled and walked back to their room. A little social time certainly wouldn't kill him.

* * *

When they finally dispersed Erik let out a sigh of relief and set about finding Christine. He had tried to be angry with her for leaving him, tried to build it up inside him, but he failed miserably.

He opened the door to the bedroom and found her sitting, staring out of the window at the snow covered lane behind the inn. She turned to him and began to giggle.

'What is funny?' he asked, despite already knowing the answer.

'The look on your face,' she said gently.

Again, he tried to summon anger, but none came, instead he felt himself smiling. 'You could have helped me,'

'They were harmless,' her eyes were twinkling mischievously.

'They were boring,'

This time, she laughed out loud, and Erik's heart thumped hard in his chest. 'What if they found _you_ boring?'

'Impossible,' he joked. 'I am the master of small talk,'

And that was it. Christine fell back on the bed laughing with unreserved delight, as she gripped her stomach and rolled from side to side. Erik watched as she laughed so hard tears found their way out from her eyes and onto her reddening cheeks.

As her laughing slowed to giggles and she tried to catch her breath, Erik said, 'I don't see why that's so funny, I'm rather apt in the art of making conversation,'

She glanced at him through watery, happy eyes, and then began to laugh again. This time he talked over her laughter, 'Well I am,'

Gasping for breath Christine asked, 'Can you give me an example?'

'Of course,' he said but didn't elaborate. This did nothing to stop Christine's giggles.

Erik sat in the wooden chair next to the dresser and allowed himself a brief moment to watch her. For the first time in months she looked happy and to Erik's disbelief it was because of something he had done.

His gaze drifted over her face, over her soft, full lips, across her high, smooth cheekbones pink from laughing. He let himself look at her nose, small and neat, her eyes, deep and rich, eyelashes long, neat… _beautiful_. He blinked and turned his eyes away.

She stopped laughing and said, 'It's been a lovely morning,'

He looked at her and smiled but didn't really know what to say. He wasn't even sure that it was lovely. They were still in danger, they would need to move on and they still had a lot to do but he didn't have the heart to burst her bubble. She looked so at peace.

Her eyes stared from the window again and after a moments silence she said quietly, 'I know it sounds like a strange thing to say,'

Erik blinked. 'What?'

'A strange thing to say,' she repeated. 'That it's been a lovely morning,'

For a moment Erik wondered if he had lost his mind, if he had spoken his thoughts aloud.

She sighed. 'I know that it won't last.'

This time, Erik fought a sigh of his own.

'But I slept in a comfortable bed, I ate food and drank warm drinks,' she explained. 'And the fire was so hot last night and the snow today…. you _sang_,'

'Well,' Erik said, feeling a twinge in his chest. 'It is Christmas,'

She smiled warmly at him. 'You don't care for Christmas,'

_I care for you._

'Not really but even I can have my moments of softness,' he said. 'Believe it or not, I was swept up myself with the warmth of the room… music heals me, sometimes,'

'It should heal you all of the time,' Christine said and then added, if a little hesitantly, 'You still sing beautifully, Erik,'

He swallowed. 'But not often, it's not often that it feels right to sing anymore,'

'What would make it feel right?'

_You_.

'I don't know,' he lied.

'We should work on finding out,' she said as she stared out of the window. 'Then perhaps we can work on healing you for whatever reasons you need to be healed,'

For lack of anything more to say Erik sighed, 'Let us heal you first, find out what's going on… then, if there is time, we will work on me.'

She glanced at him and smiled, a smile that broke his heart because he realised that she really did mean to help him. He knew it would never happen and he knew that the next days and weeks… perhaps months would only get more difficult for them. Erik's duty was to protect her and to discover whatever it was that chased them.

If he succeeded he would return to Paris with Christine and leave her with the Giry's. The French and English authorities were never on particularly good terms and, therefore, he knew the police would not bother them there. Antoinette would take excellent care of her until she was well enough to care for herself again.

Erik, on the other hand, would continue to wander. He knew that he would never be fully able to settle into what other people deemed to be normality. His existence was too turbulent and he had done too many awful things in his life to expect absolution from anyone. Or even to want it.

He watched as Christine's quiet beauty filled the room, and his heart, knowing that soon he would be letting her go again. The thought of not seeing her, painful though it was, could motivate him further. Not seeing her meant that she was safe and once she was safe, he would at least feel some peace.

All he had to do now was get them to that point.

Once there, the fight would be over, one way or another, and he would protect her until the end of his days. He knew it and deep down, so did she.

Christine walked over and placed her hand on his arm waking him from his daydream. Her fingers were soft and warm, and he forced himself to look into her eyes and smile.

'You were gone,' she said gently.

He blinked. 'Sorry,'

'Are you alright?' she asked.

He nodded wondering how much it would hurt this time around, when he had to let her go.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Many thanks for the great reviews. They're appreciated more than any of you know. I will reply to you all individually as soon as I get chance. It's important to me to thank everyone who took the time to read.**

**To those of you reading and no reviewing- thanks to you also, and I hope you're enjoying. **

**As I said previously, these next few chapters are much more about Erik and Christine than they are about the mystery/ action side of the plot… but that's come back in soon. **

**Anyway, onwards. **

**Chapter 19**

Erik had pretended to go to sleep and then sat up watching Christine sleep for nearly the entire night. The idea was that he spent the night carefully guarding her, so that Christmas ended in the same way that has started… _happily_. The problem was that it had been so peaceful in the bedroom that evening, and he had been so exhausted, that eventually, despite his best efforts, he found his head beginning to drop, his eyelids becoming heavier…

The next thing he knew was the warmth on his face from sunlight peering in through a small gap in the drapes as morning greeted him by gently touching the unmasked skin of his left cheek.

As warming as this should have been, his heart made a startling thud in his chest the moment he realised that he had been to sleep and had not been properly protecting Christine. He sat up straight in the uncomfortable chair, felt the creak of his back as he did, and looked for Christine in the bed. The sheets were twisted and thrown aside, the pillows hanging from the sides of mattress but the bed was otherwise empty.

He leapt up and, for once, was glad that he had fallen to sleep with most of his clothes on. He pulled his shoes on quickly and ran from the room, feeling his heart beating wildly in his chest. As he sprinted along the corridor people stared at him in surprise, but he ignored their looks and leapt down the stairs, taking two steps at a time.

When he entered the lounge he was surprised to see Christine sitting with her back to the window, reading an old newspaper. She glanced up and, on seeing his flustered look, stood to face him, to _calm_ him... In spite of the fury he felt at her having left him there without telling him, he ran to her and threw his arms around her waist. He didn't think he had ever been so pleased to see anyone before in his life and this overtook his usual, inward reservations.

Letting go of her he breathed, 'You should have woken me,'

She blinked, startled, 'But you looked so peaceful,'

'I was worried half to death,' he said quietly, realising that there were others in the room. It seemed people liked nothing more than to involve themselves in other's business.

She smiled reassuringly, 'I'm fine,'

'I see that now,'

'I'm sorry,' she said gently.

'You shouldn't go anywhere without me,' he told her. '_Ever_,'

She sighed. 'I didn't think… I… it just feels so safe here,'

He swallowed to dampen his throat, as all of the moisture seemed to have been sucked out of it, 'I know,'

'I'm sorry, Erik,' Christine said with an earnest that made him feel just a little bit sad.

He allowed himself to breathe properly, 'Its fine,' he assured her.

'Are you sure?' she asked and then slowly, she grinned; 'Only… you look a sight,'

He looked down at himself, noticing how wrinkled his trousers looked and seeing, also, that he was only wearing his undershirt. 'I should get dressed,'

She smiled again, 'Will I be alright to wait down here?'

He looked around him at the few people in the room, glanced out through the window that looked out onto the street, 'Yes, but sit where you can see the door and obscure your face with the newspaper,'

She nodded and took her seat again as he turned to walk away. 'I _am_ sorry,' she said.

He turned to face her, saw the gentle sparkle of her eyes, 'I know,' he said and then paused, remembering the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. 'I know… but _please…_ don't do it again,'

'I won't,'

He stared at her.

'I promise,'

* * *

When he re-entered the lounge he looked significantly more presentable, having changed into the spare pair of trousers they had brought from the farm and thrown on his white shirt. He was carrying three bags, one that she would carry, small and undoubtedly containing food, soap and probably some wine that he had stolen from the bar the night before.

In the other two bags were clothes for both of them that had been cleaned and folded carefully at the farm. There weren't many sets of clothes in there and Christine was already beginning to feel dirty, in spite of the fact that she was wearing clean clothes herself.

Erik placed the bags in the corner of the room where he could keep his eyes on them while he ate some breakfast. Christine was beginning to understand his thought process, the way he would move, what certain shades of blue in his eyes meant. She had spent time with him, long ago, in Paris, but it was only recently that she was really beginning to know him.

She noticed things about him now, the way he tilted his head to the right when he was listening to her, the way he stood up straight when someone approached them… the way he was always looking around them, for danger. Christine noticed the way his hands were warmer and thicker than they once were, his face was less gaunt, more fleshed out, his features were more sharp and defined than she had ever noticed back in Paris. She saw the way he smiled when he was genuinely happy, the slight curve of his mouth when he was being sly, the cold shimmer of gold in his eyes when he was angered.

Who would have thought that a man in a mask could have so many different faces?

The cook brought him out some thickly sliced ham, cheese and bread and placed it on the table in front of him. He thanked her quietly and took a few bites from the bread and a chunk of ham, before wrapping the rest in a napkin and stowing it away into Christine's bag.

She sat next to him and said, 'You've changed your mind,'

Erik looked at her but didn't respond.

'We're leaving now, aren't we? Right this minute,'

He nodded his head.

'Why?'

He sighed. 'We're going to make our way back towards London,'

She stared at him in shock. 'London? _Why_? It's not safe there,'

'I didn't say we were going _to_ London,' he said quietly. 'Just that we will be moving in that direction,'

She frowned.

'They won't expect us to go back that way,' he explained. 'But I need to get the document,'

'Is it in London?'

Erik shook his head. 'No, but we need to go south to get to it,'

'Are you really going to read it?' she asked.

'Yes,' Erik replied. 'Then we might know what we're dealing with,'

Christine was still nervous about the idea of actually knowing what was written in the mysterious document, she felt her stomach tie into knots at the thought of reading it, at the thought of knowing something that she was beginning to realise that she shouldn't. She felt queasy.

Erik must have noticed and he reached over the table to place his hand on top of hers, 'Don't worry,' he said. 'I won't do anything that puts you in any danger. I never would,'

When she nodded he seemed assured and moved his hand away from hers. On standing he said, 'Come, let us leave,'

They grabbed their bags and slipped out through the back door, heading into the stables. Christine felt the cold touch her immediately and, with a shiver, wondered why this winter had seemed so long, when in fact, they were only just past Christmas.

Erik slowly and methodically bridled both horses and hooked the bags to the saddles. First, he helped Christine onto her mare and then he climbed onto his own stead, patting its neck as he got himself more comfortable.

'We should name them,' Christine said, staring down at her horse; as Erik guided his from the stables then out onto the cobbles. Both horses followed the commands obediently and they clicked their way over the snow coated ground.

'We shouldn't name them,' Erik countered, as they found the houses becoming scarcer, moving into the countryside.

'Why not?' she asked, 'Would it not help?'

'Because at some point we may have to leave them behind,' he said. 'I think that a name might create an attachment,'

'For you?' she asked.

He laughed gently, a soft, warm sound she so rarely heard from him... 'Not for me, for _you_,'

'I won't become attached to them,' she said.

'Of course you will,' he said, the breath from his mouth pouring out in steam as he spoke.

'I won't,' she argued.

He shot her a sidelong glance. 'It's in your nature, Christine,'

She huffed but deep down she knew he was right.

'Do you remember the cat?' he asked.

'Of course I remember Henry,' she insisted, 'He was with me for a long time,'

'Less than a month,' he said.

She scowled at him, adding defiantly, 'I'm naming my horse,'

Erik said nothing more and continued to lead them along dirt paths and the occasional cobblestone roadway. As the silence grew more settled she felt her fingers beginning to hurt from the cold. By the time they past through the next village, she could barely feel them at all, and when she looked down at them they were a horrible shade of red.

It was another mile or so more Erik turned to her and said, 'You should wear the gloves from the bag,'

She turned her head and stared at him, 'How did you… are _your_ hands hurting too?'

He gave his hands a cursory once over and then replied, 'No,'

'Which bag are the gloves in?' she asked, looking down at the one hooked over her saddle.

'This one,' Erik said as he reached down and grabbed the bag hanging by his foot. He threw the bag over and, although she caught it, she managed to embarrass herself by squealing like a girl when she nearly dropped it.

Her cheeks were hot but when she looked over at Erik, he was staring straight ahead, concentrating as if he hadn't noticed her child like outburst. She held onto the reins with one hand and dug around in the satchel with her other, until she felt the soft gloves. She tied the bag back up awkwardly and threw it over to Erik, who caught it one handed, with barely a glance in her direction.

After she slipped the gloves onto her hands, she slowly felt the feeling returning to her numbed fingers. Relieved she said, 'I'm going to call my horse Melody,'

Erik laughed.

'I like it,'

'It sounds like you're naming a small furry cretin,'

'Melody is a _fine_ name,' she said.

'For a rabbit,' Erik retorted.

'Then what would you call her?'

'I wouldn't call _it_ anything,' he replied.

'Yours can be Chancery,' she said, ignoring him as best she could. She liked the idea of naming the horses, they were going to be with them on their journey and she felt that this meant they _deserved_ a name, if not needed one.

Erik looked at her, a hint of scepticism in his eyes, but said nothing.

Christine let herself fall back into the flow of the horses hooves clunking against the winter frozen ground. They were both quiet for a long time, but there was no tension in it, just a pleasant, reserved lull that they had settled into. Occasionally, Christine caught herself glancing in his direction, trying to judge from the look in his eyes what was on his mind, what he was truly thinking. His body posture gave nothing away and the retreating daylight did nothing to help her see his eyes.

Eventually, Erik turned to her and said, 'We need to find somewhere to settle for the night,'

She looked around them, at the openness of where they were. 'Are we lost?' she asked.

'No,' he answered, shaking his head. 'There was a wooden stake in the ground approximately two miles back telling us we were heading the right way,'

'I didn't see that,'

'You weren't looking for it,' he said.

'I don't see a village anywhere,' Christine pointed out.

'There isn't a town or village for a while but if my memory serves me correctly, there is a small forest up ahead,'

Christine was about to protest that she saw nothing at all when in the dim distance she spotted a darker patch. As they got closer to it, she realised that it was the forest that Erik had spoken of, and wondered how his sense of direction had become so honed.

The nearer they got, the darker the evening became until they were upon the woodland but could see very little in front of them. Of course, this didn't seem to bother Erik in the slightest as he jumped down from the back of his horse and led them through into the thickness of the tress.

Christine felt her chest tighten. 'Erik…' she whispered. He didn't answer. 'Erik, please, I'm afraid,'

She felt his hand touch her foot. 'I'm here,'

'I can't see anything,'

'Don't worry, I can see perfectly,' he assured her. 'Your horse will follow me,'

They delved deeper into the forest until Erik stopped and said, 'This will do,'

She stared into the blackness until she felt Erik's hands un-stirrup her feet and pull her body towards him. He helped her to the ground, where she felt softer earth beneath her feet.

'It's warmer here,' she said.

'Yes, the deeper into the forest we get the more the trees cover it, it means that there is much less frost,' he explained. 'Wait here, don't move,'

Christine did as she was instructed, waiting patiently for Erik to return. It comforted her that she could hear him moving, not far in the distance, and when he returned she found that most of her fear had dissipated.

'I have tied the horses and found some wood,' he said.

'Will they be alright?' Christine asked.

'The horses?'

'Yes,' she replied.

'Of course,' he said. 'They're more resilient than you might think. Besides, I stole a few extra blankets for us all… including horse blankets from the stable. They are well covered,' he was kneeling down, not far in front of her, she could just make out his outline in the pitch black. 'I have fed them some apples and they can move to graze on the grass, so they should be fine. We will need to find water for them first thing though,'

Christine stood perfectly still until she saw a spark and then, suddenly, a small flame. Erik threw some small twigs onto the flame until there was a very tiny fire burning. Then he began to pile slightly thicker wood around it. Slowly, the thicker wood began to catch and a fire roared in front of them.

She looked around her, finally able to see, and noted the huge trees and saw where Erik had tethered the horses. When she finally looked back towards him he was digging into one of the satchels, pulling out several larges blankets. He threw one of the older ones on the floor and signalled for her to sit down.

She sat on the blanket, feeling the heat from the fire on her face. He walked to her and threw another blanket around her shoulders. She took the ends from him and tugged it around her.

'You should take the gloves off,' he said, as he began sorting threw a second bag.

'You're right,' she said, tugging them off her hands and placed them by the fire. 'Hopefully, I will get the benefit from them tomorrow morning.' She looked around her and then up through the small gap in the tress, which despite losing most of their leaves, still created a thick wooden lair. 'I hope it doesn't rain,'

Erik looked up. 'It won't,'

She pulled the blanket around her tighter but the fire was doing its job and she was feeling warmer and safer.

Erik sat next to her, a blanket over his shoulders, and handed her a piece of ham between two chunks of bread. The traveller's version of a sandwich, she thought, as she took a big bite.

'How is your side feeling?' he asked.

She chewed and swallowed, 'Sore still but not particularly painful, it seems to be nearly healed now,'

'You still need to be careful,' he lectured.

Christine nodded and took another bite of her supper. She was surprised to see that Erik, too, was eating a small sandwich, his made from cheese. It tasted good on a near empty stomach and before long she was done.

Erik reached into the bag and pulled out a small bottle. 'Wine,' he said, handing it to her.

She took a grateful swig from the bottle, feeling unusually liberated by the lack of regularity in drinking from the bottle and sleeping on the ground. The wine was bitter but warm and she enjoyed another glug before passing it back to Erik.

She found herself giggling, 'Not too much or you will be merry,'

He turned to her, placing the stopper back in the wine bottle. 'Have you ever known me merry?' he asked.

She smiled, 'No, Erik, far too melancholy,'

He faced the fire and Christine watched the flames leap about the shimmering white of his mask. 'I wish I had known you better,' she said, surprising even herself.

Erik didn't move to look at her but he spoke, 'When?'

'In Paris,' she replied. 'I didn't know of your history then,'

'Would it have changed anything?' he asked.

'I would have had some understanding,'

'You would have pitied me horribly,' he said.

'I won't deny that I would have felt some pity for you, Erik,' she said softly, tugging at the blanket. 'But not all pity is horrible,'

'You are wrong,' he said simply. 'All pity is wrong. It is a travesty to be pitied, those who are respected and those with power are never pitied,'

She stared at him, 'I would have had sympathy for you, Erik, because you were treated appallingly as a boy,'

'Any yet, I still am who I am, with or without your pity,'

'Actually, you're not quite who you were to me,' she explained. 'Things have changed Erik,'

'Nothing has changed,' he said sharply. 'You are still Christine, you are still beautiful and exceptionally talented and I am still Erik, still ugly and still iniquitous,'

'You are not who you were,'

'Don't fool yourself, Christine,'

'No, I am not and I will not,' she said with a fire that she had long ago forgotten she had. 'I will also not believe that you are inherently bad, Erik. I have spent months with you now and although you are the master of deception, you have not fooled me.'

Erik did not respond.

'You have cared for me, rescued me, fed me and clothed me,' she said. 'You have put yourself on the rack for me… you have made me wish to be around you, you have made me _trust_ you,'

He continued to stare into the fire, seemingly unmoved.

'No man has ever protected me the way you have, nor have they said the things you have,' she continued. 'You have feelings; you are _not_ evil, despite wishing people to believe that you are,'

She took a breath as her voice disappeared to nothing around them.

Finally, Erik looked at her. 'Are you quite finished?' he said but there was no steel to his voice.

She stared at him for a long moment before crawling close to him, touching her lips to his bare cheek, and then lying down pulling her blanket over her.

'You have your own beauty, Erik,' she said softly, feeling sleep caress her. 'You just haven't found it yet,'


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: I am still writing this, I promise. I don't get on the internet much right now as real life has been hard work. I am on chapter 27 I think. I'm sorry if you have to read back to refresh your memories.**

**I will try to update again before the end of the weekend though!**

**Thanks always for the reviews, much appreciated and always encouraging.**

**Chapter 20**

Erik watched as Christine rolled onto her side with her back to him and then he touched his cheek with his fingertips, staring, open mouthed, in utter astonishment. The feel of her lips was still tingling across his skin and he feared that the sensation would forever be embedded in his face, meaning he would never be able to forget the warmth of her breath upon him as she had moved away.

He wondered how much time it would take for the longing for another kiss to disappear from his mind. _An eternity_, he imagined. It brought his mind back to the night in his cellars under the Paris Opera House, when her lips had met his and made his world fall apart and, then, bridge together again, all in an instant. He sat by the fire with the sight of her damp hair, torn dress and soft lips, clear like crystal in his memory. He had never, and _would_ never, forget the way it felt to have her lips pressed to his in _that_ act of unspeakable mercy.

The kiss may have been nothing more than pity but it did not matter to him, for her lips tasted of the sweetest fruit, the finest wine, the purest and most innocent heaven he could ever _dream_ to imagine. When she had moved away he had seen in her eyes that she could never be happy with him, trapped away, that she could never love him as truly as she loved the boy.

He felt betrayed but the kiss had left him with a strange concoction of emotion that both elated and confused him. In that moment, _the moment of her softness,_ he had snapped out of his rage and seen her, for perhaps the first time, for what she was… just an innocent young woman with a life of happiness ahead of her.

He had let her go.

His love for her, in the end, was so powerful that eventually he knew that he had to make her happy, and if that meant her leaving him, then so be it.

The months that had past after that night were agonising, thinking of her constantly, wanting her endlessly, angered by her shun, her betrayal, yet buoyed by her kiss. Eventually he allowed the anger to overcome him so that he could move on, believing her to be the most heartless of all creatures he had ever met, convincing himself that he never wanted to see her again.

And then, when he thought he was at last safe from his feelings, there she was.

The first meeting about protection had taken place with the young Vicomte only. The boy had been nervous, understandably, and had carried a weapon, _rudely_.

'I need your help,'

Erik remembered it vividly, the tone of De Chagny's voice as he spoke to him that day. It had been raining outside, none stop for days. The younger man had thought that he sounded firm and confident but Erik's trained ears caught the fear, the slight quiver of dread, in his tone.

Erik had laughed, a hard cruel laugh, a laugh so heartless that he rarely used it anymore.

'We,' Raoul had corrected. '_We_ need your help,'

Erik had stared at him. 'Antoinette told you where to find me,'

'Madame Giry was reluctant,' Raoul had said, 'But yes,'

'She should have informed you that you would be wasting your energies coming to me. I am in no mood to help you, why would I?'

'Christine is in danger,'

Erik had struggled to keep his face neutral but was ashamed to feel the thud in his heart at the sound of her name, the thought that she might be hurt.

'Please,' Raoul had pleaded.

'No,' Erik said, he held firm.

'She needs you,' De Chagny insisted. 'Don't you understand? She _needs_ you… we need you… she will be killed,'

'Why?' Erik asked. 'Can you not protect your precious commodity yourself?'

'My wife does not belong to me,' Raoul had sighed, there was despair there, shivering on his lips. 'I will pay you, I will pay you to protect us,'

'How much?' Erik has asked coldly.

'As much as you want,' Raoul had said quickly. '_Anything_ you want,'

A foolish thing to offer, Erik thought, but his love for Christine prevailed and the two men had negotiated a sum of money which was far higher than he expected. Erik walked Raoul to the door and the younger man was careful not to take his eyes away from the Phantom, not to turn his back, not to leave his neck unguarded.

As he was leaving, Raoul had said, 'If it comes to it… you are paid to protect her… not me. If there is ever a choice, although _I_ am paying you, you must always save Christine,'

Erik smiled. 'There would never be a choice to make. There is no choice between you and Christine. To me, _you_ are meaningless,'

He had shut the door in the Vitcome's face.

A sharp pop in the fire turned Erik's attention back to the present. He turned and looked again at the sleeping Christine, her shoulder rising slowly with the deep breaths of her slumber, and sighed.

Tomorrow was yet another day.

* * *

It was the sound of the dawn chorus that pulled Christine from her deep sleep. She rolled onto her back, still swathed tightly in the blanket and stretched her aching muscles. The ground was uncomfortable, but she had barely noticed that the night before and had somehow slept very well. Erik, of course, was already awake and fully dressed, toasting a piece of bread over a fresh fire.

There was a winter damp in the air and the ground further away from them looked frosty with cold. She glanced again at Erik, who had obviously kept the fire going well all night, for fear they might both succumb to the cold.

He turned to look at her but his face was impassive, unreadable, and even when she smiled at him, he did not return the gesture. She wondered if their conversation the previous evening had damaged their fragile relationship, she had become quite used to his smile of late. It was something new she knew about him… that he had rather a lovely a smile, despite the slight twist of his lower lip to the right hand side of his face.

'Good morning, Erik,' she said as she sat up and pulled the blanket around her shoulders.

He didn't respond but handed her the toast with a small piece of cheese melting on top.

'Is there something wrong?' she asked, taking the bread from him gratefully. Her stomach growled.

'No,' he answered simply. There was nothing uneven or peculiar in his tone, there seemed nothing at all.

'Didn't you sleep?' she asked.

'I rarely do,' he said.

She stared at him. 'I've done something wrong,'

He glanced at her with a frown.

'If I have you should tell me what it is,' she said earnestly. 'Then I will try to make it right,'

'You have done nothing wrong,' Erik said.

'Then why are you so quiet with me?'

They stared at each other for a long moment before Erik sighed and said, 'I'm sorry, I hadn't realised,'

Christine doubted that this was true but his mood seemed to lighten as they ate, and though he didn't say much, she didn't feel so uncomfortable with him. Erik had always been a man of few words, anyway, and so she let it go.

'There is a stream over there,' Erik pointed. 'If you need to wash and drink,'

'Won't it be frozen?' she asked.

He shook his head. 'It's running, I checked earlier. It seems fresh.'

She stared at him for a moment, once again taken aback by his resourcefulness. The toast in her hand was growing cold and so she finished eating it and pushed herself to her feet. Erik, too, stood.

'Are you coming with me?' she asked.

He nodded and began to untie the horses from the tree, 'I would rather you didn't go alone,'

For a moment she considered protesting but decided against it and allowed him to follow her across the firm ground until she could hear the gentle trickle of the running stream. It wasn't very big but there was enough water pouring through to allow her to drink and to wash her face.

She knelt on the wintry earth and dipped her hands into the water. The cold water bit at her fingers and she resisted the urge to pull them out, instead she cupped them and brought water to her lips, drinking carefully. Next she splashed her face and neck, feeling chills prickle along her spine and arms as she did. When she stood Erik was waiting with a blanket. He threw it over her shoulders without saying a word and then led the horses to the water.

They drank gratefully and readily, glugging each mouthful of the water as if they hadn't drunk in days. Christine watched them with quiet fascination as Erik patted their huge shoulder muscles. It always seemed strange to her that horses were so comfortable with him, animals in general, in fact, when he was such a dark figure. His face often shadowed, his mask peculiar, his eyes sharp and fierce and yet the horses nudged against him, allowed him near them as they drank or ate.

Sometimes, he amazed her.

When they walked back to their little campsite, Erik prepared the horses for the journey and Christine packed the bags and doused the fire. It wasn't too long before they were on their way again and not much further before they saw signs for London. They said very little to one another but Erik glanced often towards her and the fact that he was still there was of a great comfort to her.

They didn't stop for lunch, instead they ate some ham and cheese as they moved. It was awkward but Erik had insisted that too many nights in the cold would cause them trouble. Before long, Erik announced that they were adjacent to London and Christine felt some relief that the endless farms and fields, all frighteningly similar, were behind them.

'Where are we going?'

He looked at her and for a moment she truly thought that he might tell her to be quiet but, instead, he sighed and said, 'We're going to my house,'

Christine blinked at him. 'Your _house_?'

'Yes,'

'How… you've got a house,' she said numbly, thoughts swirling through her head like leaves on the wind.

'Where did you think I lived?' Erik asked reasonably.

'I…' she sighed. 'A house. Unbelievable,'

For the first time in months, she was actually angry with him. When he didn't say anything she said, 'Could we have not gone there for all this time, instead of traipsing through hell and sleeping on the ground?'

'You've slept on the ground twice,' he pointed out.

'Erik,' she almost screamed but managed to contain herself.

'Do you think it would be safe there, Christine?' he asked, perfectly calmly.

'If it's not safe then why are we going there now?'

'I don't know if it is or if it isn't safe,' he explained. 'All I know is that I need to collect some things,'

'What if it isn't safe now?' she asked, her anger only partly subsided.

'I'll know if it's safe when we get there,' he replied. 'If it isn't safe, we don't spend the night… if it is, we can stay for a while. We can wash our clothes and blankets, hang them over the fire to dry, I believe I left plenty of wood and coal in the scuttle,'

Christine stared at him as they plodded alone and once again she was surprised by how normal he could sometimes appear. A house, a coal scuttle, fires and laundry, _all_ so normal yet Erik….

'We're not far away now,' he said, interrupting her thoughts. 'We will have to ride through some of the night though,'

Although the prospect of riding deep into the night didn't exactly please her, she felt oddly safer knowing that they would be approaching Erik's home while it was still dark. Perhaps it was that Erik always seemed so confident at night, so sure. More likely, though, it was simply that she knew that his eyesight was better than most at night and they were likely to see someone but that someone spotted them.

They rode on in a peaceful silence and sure enough night began fall until, finally, there was almost pitch blackness about them. Christine could barely see anything but she could clearly hear their horses breathing and she _feel_ Erik's presence as his horse led the way.

It wasn't too long before they moved into a large town and rode out through the other side into more land filled with fields and trees. The darkness was just starting to unnerve her when Erik said, quietly, 'It's just up ahead,'

'Really?' she asked, relief seeping into her tone.

'Yes,' he answered quietly. 'You wait here, I want to ride ahead and check that it is safe,'

Panic gripped her momentarily as she gasped, 'Alone? In the dark? Don't leave me here, what if someone sees me?'

'No one will see you,' he said gently. 'I can only just see you… and my eyes are well adjusted to this type of light. No one else would spot you,'

'They might hear me,' her heart was pounding.

'Then you will hear them and set your horse to gallop,' he said.

With that she listened to the sound of Chancery's hooves pounding into the distance. She sat as still as she could, taking comfort from Melody's steady, calm breathing. It felt an eternity before Erik returned and when he did he was careful to announce his presence to her, so that she did not panic.

'There doesn't seem to be anybody there,' he said. 'I checked well,'

She nodded but then wondered if he had seen her. She was about to speak when he began to ride away and Melody slowly followed. The poor horse seemed exhausted and could do with the rest.

When they arrived at the house Erik leapt from the horse, as awake as he had been all day, and helped Christine carefully from hers. He secured the horses and then led Christine into his house.

Erik fumbled around and lit some candles throwing hazy light around the room. When her eyes finally found him she noticed that he was staring at her with such an intensity she felt her cheeks redden.

'You look wonderful bathed in candlelight,' he said softly. 'I had almost forgotten the magnitude of your beauty,'

Before she could say a word he turned and left the room.

* * *

Erik walked outside and led both horses around to his small stabling area at the back. He did not carry a lantern as he did not want it to be seen and he had drawn the curtains in the house before he lit the candles. The horses followed him obediently, tiredly, and he almost felt a pang of regret at the amount of travelling the beasts had needed to do.

He patted the one Christine had named Chancery on the shoulder and the horse nuzzled him in return. When he got them into the stables he removed their reins and saddles, poured fresh water into one of the troughs and made sure there was plenty for the horses to feed on in the other.

Locking the door behind him he took another look around before allowing his mind to drift to Christine. Once more he had found himself compelled to look at her, to watch as the light of the candles coloured her face pink and orange, cast shadows along her fine cheeks… once more he was a fool.

So determined he had been that very morning, so sure he could go without staring at her, with hardly talking to her. It had lasted barely minutes. He could not resist looking at her, her beauty so captivating that once his eyes laid upon her face there was no turning his head away without feeling a sense of loss so extreme that his heart actually sank.

He swallowed hard and wandered back into the house, carefully locking the door as he did. Christine was sitting on a high backed chair in the living room, the candles still painting glorious colours along her skin.

She looked up at him, 'It's cold in here,'

He sat on the settee nearest the door. 'Not as cold as outside,'

'No,' she smiled.

He pushed himself back to his feet and began building a fire in the hearth, trying desperately not the think of just how close Christine's knee was to his shoulder. Eventually he was able to stand and the fire started to pick up power, sending more orange spilling into the room.

He found blankets and handed one to Christine, 'We shall have to sleep in here tonight… you should sleep on the settee,'

'Do you not have bedrooms, Erik?' she asked, looking amused.

He nodded. 'There is only one, but the curtains are not very good, I don't want any light to escape,'

Christine seemed to accept this and made her way to the settee, which was large enough for her to curl up on. She tucked her legs up, covered herself with the blanket and looked over at him. 'That's better,' she said.

He sat in the chair that she had just vacated. 'What is?'

'The room, it's much warmer now,'

He nodded but her focus was still on him. 'What is it?' he asked.

She blinked. 'Nothing,'

'You were staring,' he pointed out.

'I was just wondering how it might have been,' she said softly.

Erik felt his chest tighten. 'How what might have been?'

'If you had behaved this way,' she said. 'Before… how things might have been different in Paris,'

He let his gaze linger on her for a long moment. 'I've hardly behaved impeccably since we have re-found each other, have I?'

Her expression became serious. 'I think, for the most, you have behaved rather well… very gentlemanly,'

'And that is what you want, still?' he asked. 'Someone who is a gentleman,'

'I don't want anything,' she said.

'Then why think of Paris, Christine?' he said softly. 'Why make us both think of then?'

'I'm sorry,' she whispered. 'It's my girlish mind,'

'Paris could never have been any different,' he said. 'For if I was a gentleman you would never have paid me any attention,'

She turned away. 'How do you know that's true?'

'Is it not true?' he asked.

When she looked back to him she had tears in her eyes. 'How can I say for sure?'

He sighed. 'The only way Paris would have been different if I were a gentleman then would be that my pain would be worse… for I would still have loved you but never have been able to befriend you,'

'I am not so shallow…'

'No,' he said. 'But we cannot dwell on the past, we have enough trials to bear here,'

Her dark eyes remained fixed on his face until she said, 'Come closer, I want to say something to you and you are too far away,'

Despite his better judgement he stood and moved towards her, kneeling beside the settee.

'You and I will always be linked in some way, Erik,' she said, her voice so soft it hurt. 'In Paris, in the cellars, I chose you,'

'To save Raoul,'

'Yes,' she smiled, almost sadly. 'I once thought so too,'


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: I'm really pleased that some of you have stuck with me. Another chapter, aas promised. Almost a filler- not exciting but...**

**Thank you for the reviews.**

**Chapter 21**

Erik had been stunned and, unsure of what to say, he chose to say nothing and moved back to lie down in front of the fire. When he turned back to look at Christine, her eyes were closed and she was drifting peacefully to sleep, apparently she had expected no response from him at all. Now he was left to lie awake, as he did most nights, and contemplate the true meaning of her words. He wanted to read more into it than was probably there. Her choosing him in Paris was to save Raoul and they both knew it, her changing the story now made no real sense other than they were alone and had developed a new trust for each other.

He feared Christine's exhaustion was getting the better of her and then worried that it meant staying in the house for far longer than they should. The following morning Erik had plans to retrieve the document from its hiding place and read it. Part of him wanted to burn the thing and be done with it, but he knew that those pursuing them would never accept that the document had been truly destroyed. It would be his word against their fears and that was simply not going to be enough.

Before he tried to sleep he placed the fire guard around the hearth and snubbed out all of the candles, the last thing they needed was for his house to be up in flames with both of them sleeping within. The room was warm, too warm for him really, but he would not see Christine suffer another night of cold just yet. He pulled off his jacket but left his shirt on and placed the blanket over his legs and feet only, before lying down on his back and staring up at the ceiling.

Soon he would have to contact Nadir again to see if there was any news but for now his only concern was that Christine was warm and well. He wished that she had not mentioned Paris, for he thought about it quite often enough without her bringing it up. He had committed wrongs over the course of his whole life and there were very few he felt any form of guilt for… any form of any feeling at all really. For the most part he viewed the acts of his past indifferently.

He supposed the one regret he did have was all that had happened with Christine. When he had first seen her, he had known how innocent she was, how pure and naïve, yet his heart had taken over. For the first and only time in his pathetic life he had fallen desperately in love. The mere sound of her laugh was enough to pierce his cold heart. One might think he would regret the killings or the damage he caused, but Erik was not that kind of man. He did not kill for fun, but for necessity, and where something was done out of necessity there was little point in later regretting it.

Despite his thoughts, he actually slept reasonably well that night, only occasionally waking and checking on Christine. It had been a while since she had winced in pain from the wound on her side and he suspected that either she was now used to it or it had nearly fully healed. By the time the next morning rolled around, the fire had gone out completely and there were signs of sunlight creeping in through the window.

He rose and slipped his jacket on, clearing his blanket from the floor and placing it over the head rest on the chair. Then he moved the fire guard from the hearth and cleaned the ashes away as quietly as he could, not wishing to wake Christine from what seemed a peaceful slumber.

After he had cleaned the tray with the ashes, he carefully built a new fire and began warming a bath in front of it, so that Christine could clean in comfort when she woke. He removed his shirt and washed himself carefully in the kitchen, with cold water, then he went upstairs and changed into fresh clothes.

When he finally made it back to the living room Christine was awake but still looked sleepy. She smiled as he entered. He placed a large bath towel over the fire guard which he had put the side of the fire and then said, 'Are you well?'

'Yes, quite,' she replied. 'I slept rather well on the settee,'

'It's because you have become used to inn beds and hard floors,' he said and then pointed to the bath. 'That should be just warm enough for you to bathe now and the towel is clean,'

She nodded.

'I have also hung the dress from our bags over the door, so you can change into fresh clothes,'

'Thank you,' she said.

'If you could give me your dress… the one you're wearing, when you're ready, I can wash it for you and hang it up in the kitchen to dry,'

'I will change now and hand you the dress through the door,' she said.

He nodded.

As he stood outside the door waiting for her he wondered how it would feel to be her husband. Probably far more relaxed than he felt then, as he stepped from one foot to the other, chastising himself inwardly for his nervousness. Never before had he felt like he was behaving so out of character, so unlike himself, he was disappointed with the bumbling fool he was becoming yet Christine seemed to bring out a softer side to him.

The door creaked open and without showing herself, Christine managed to pass her dress through the gap between the door and frame. He took the dress and without a word she closed the door.

After washing the dress he hung it in the kitchen where the oven roared and pushed heat into the room. Christine appeared not long after and they sat at the table eating the remainder of the bread they had taken from the inn.

'Do you have any food in the pantry?' she asked.

'Oats,' he said. 'And that's about all that would have kept while I have been gone,'

She stared at him. 'Is there a market nearby?'

He shook his head. 'No but there is a farm around a mile or so away, that is where I usually get my food from,'

She didn't respond, instead she bit into another piece of bread.

'I will go to the farm in an hour or so,' he continued. 'We will need to eat later and oats are best for breakfast,'

'If you get some winter vegetables I can make us a pottage,' she said. When he didn't reply she asked, 'Is it so hard to believe that I can cook?'

He smiled and ate some more of the bread, not really wanting it but not wanting to talk either. Christine shifted in her seat and stared out from the kitchen window. Erik watched her eyes scan the barn and then out of the hills in the distance, shrouded by a milky fog. The peaceful expression on her face made his heart sink, because this normality would soon end, one way or another.

'I like it here,' she said, a comment out of nowhere. 'It's so…'

'Remote?' he asked.

She smiled, 'No, it's so peaceful,'

'I bought it because it's remote,'

She laughed. 'Well, remote is a good thing as well, given the circumstances,'

'The farm is the closest building for around five or six miles,' he explained, pushing his plate away from him and standing. 'I need to check on the horses,'

As he walked past her, she reached out and grabbed his hand. 'I'd rather stay here, in the warm, than go to the farm with you...'

He stopped and stared down at her.

'Please,' she said.

'I'll check the perimeter first,' he answered, the thought of leaving her completely alone actually frightened him. 'Then we'll see,'

* * *

Christine curled her feet up under her body and cradled the cup of hot wine in her hands, watching as the fire popped chunks of burnt wood onto the hearth. Erik had finally agreed to leave her at the house, after a near hour long perimeter check, and gone in search of food for them. He had been gone just over an hour, according to the clock over the mantel, and she was finding that the more time she spent in his little house, the more she liked it.

It was small and cosy, very minimalist as she had come to know Erik to be. The views out through the windows were magnificent and the whole place was wonderfully quiet. Berkshire was lovely but her house with Raoul was so big that she often felt like she didn't quite belong there, as though she was trapped in its vastness. Here felt like her old home, with her father, when she was only a child. Not grand nor luxurious but simply quaint and comfortable, filled with memories. It was rare that she allowed herself to think of her father, the genius of a man who was never recognised as such in the circles he deserved to be. Erik had heard her father play, she knew, and he agreed that her father was certainly gifted.

When she did think of him, she always missed him.

The sound of Erik's voice brought her back to the real world. She followed the sound the kitchen where she saw him place a basket of carrots, potatoes and parsnips on the table. He had also brought milk with him and some eggs from the chickens on the farm.

'I'm still here,' she said, noting his worried expression.

'I don't really like leaving you alone,' he responded without looking at her. 'I got vegetables,'

'Are you hungry now?' she asked.

He glanced up at her briefly. 'I'm rarely hungry,'

She wandered over and began moving the vegetables into the cool pantry. 'You should go into the living room,'

Erik didn't reply.

'To warm yourself,'

'I don't feel cold,' he said.

'No,' she smiled. 'But you look it. Besides, I found some playing cards and wondered if you might give me a game of something,'

'I didn't even realise I owned any playing cards,'

'Well you do,' she said. 'And I could really do with feeling some sort of normalcy, so… will you play?'

Erik moved the eggs into the pantry and without saying anything led the way into the warm living room, where the fire continue to set flickering shapes around the room. Christine saw back on the settee and lifted the cards from the small table.

They played for nearly two hours and although Erik did not say much, he always tried to win and even cast her an occasional smile. When finally it was clear he had had enough of the game she packed the cards away carefully and took herself to the kitchen to make a broth.

She knew it wouldn't be perfect, she didn't have everything she needed, but it would warm them. The kitchen was quiet as darkness fell and Erik remained in the living area reading an old book. While she cooked she would check in on him but he never looked up from his book, not until she walked in with two bowls of soup.

'Do you want to eat in here?' he asked, placing his book on the arm of the chair.

'I thought it would be warmer,' she handed him his bowl and then closed the door to the room.

When she finally made herself comfortable and tasted the soup, she found that it was surprisingly good and filling. She ate too fast and burnt the roof of her mouth, but she didn't really care. It felt so good to be by a fire, eating hot, home cooked food.

Erik ate half of the soup in his bowl, before clearing their dishes away, but didn't look unhappy with the flavour and Christine felt secretly pleased with herself. When he came back into the room he took up his seat and picked up his book again. Under normal circumstances Christine would have felt quite bored but instead she pulled her blanket over her and watched him read, enjoying the peace that had settled into the room.

It wasn't long before she began to feel drowsy and then not much longer before she could barely keep her eyes open.

Sleep came gently and quickly.

* * *

For lunch the next day, they ate the remainder of the soup that Christine had made the night before. Erik was surprised that he actually found the taste of it quite pleasant and didn't mind eating it two days running. That evening they ate eggs with toast and he taught her to play chess.

He suggested they move on, she did not like the idea. He agreed to them staying one more night.

After the perimeter check on the fourth night in the house, even Erik was starting to feel a little more secure. Christine had developed a healthy glow back in her face and her knife wound had healed completely, leaving only a small scar.

He checked regularly on the horses and had retrieved the document, though he had neither told Christine nor had he read it.

On the fifth night, the balance of everything changed.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Thank you for all of the great reviews. Chapter 28 has just been completed... new chapter posted here as promised last week! I'm going to try to stick with the regular updates. x**

**Chapter 22**

The wind had picked up outside and the air was cool, even with the fire blazing in the living room. Erik had found Christine another blanket, one that was a little thicker, and he had stoked the fire up as much as it would go.

'Do you think it will snow again?' she asked as he added another shovel full of coal onto the fire.

He shrugged. 'I don't know, it's freezing over outside. I've had to put more covers over the horses and close the top doors,'

'Poor things,'

Erik didn't respond, knowing how she got about animals, knowing how most women felt about them. They made them soft. He sat in his chair and admitted to himself that even he was beginning to feel the cold, and that was most unusual. It made him wonder just how much colder it could actually get. So far, he was sure it had been both the coldest and longest winter he could remember.

Christine stood and moved closer to the fire with her blanket draped over her shoulders. 'I can't believe how cold I feel,'

'Do you want me to pull the settee closer to the fire for you?' he asked, worried that her face was so pale.

'No, I feel fine standing,' she said, tugging at the edges of the blanket. For once he was glad that they hadn't moved on, it was too cold to sleep outdoors and some of the inns were no better than a cave for their warmth.

Christine was staring into the fire and the reflection of it danced wildly in her eyes. She seemed far away, as if he could reach out and his hand would go straight through her. He wondered if she was thinking of Raoul and a brief, but harsh, pang of jealousy stabbed at his heart. She stood still and in silence for what could easily have been an eternity, that's how it felt, before she said, 'You've been kind to me,'

He looked up from his seat but she didn't avert her gaze from the flames. He wasn't really sure what she was expecting him to say, or if she was expecting a response at all. Utterly at a loss he stood and walked to the door.

'I'm going to check around outside and then lock up,' he said and made sure to close the door behind him, so that the heat from the fire remained in the room.

He threw his cloak on and walked out into the cold, night air. It was bitter with sleet and the wind was fierce, so fierce he could barely hear, something he was entirely unused to. He walked around the edges of the building in the blackness and finally, satisfied that all was well, he re-entered the house through the rear door and locked it carefully behind him.

He hung his cloak up but his shirt was wet from the sleet and rain. He sighed and welcomed the warmth of the living room when he walked in.

Christine turned to look at him, still clutching at the blanket's seams, pulling it tight around her slight body. Her eyes widened as they focused on him. 'Is it raining or snowing?' she asked.

'It's sleet… a little bit of both,' he replied, edging closer to the fire. It made him feel weak that he was cold. He shouldn't feel the cold, it shouldn't bother him… it never had before.

'Your shirt is soaking,' she said, staring at him.

He glanced down at himself again and nodded.

'Come over here,' she insisted. 'Closer to the fire,'

'I feel fine,' he lied.

She looked at him, a scepticism in her eyes that he had never seen before. 'You look freezing,'

He stared at her.

'It will make me feel better if you get yourself closer to the fire, I'm worried,'

He nodded, thanking her inwardly for giving him the excuse. As he moved closer to the fire his fingers began to tingle and almost burn, it was a peculiar sensation, one he didn't like much.

Christine was staring at him when he turned to face her. 'You need to change,'

He frowned.

'Your clothes,' she elaborated. 'They won't dry quickly enough, you'll catch your death,'

Secretly, Erik had no desire to move away from the fire until he could feel his fingers properly and so he said, 'I'm fine,'

'You're not,' she said firmly. 'You've been so good to me, protected me and kept me warm, treated me like… like…'

She stopped, as if stumbling over the words. Erik had no idea what she intended to say but whatever it was, she didn't know if it was the right thing at all.

'Like?'

She swallowed, 'You've treated me like you care,'

He stared at her. 'I do care,'

'You despised me,' she said, and Erik's ears picked up the catch in her throat.

'I think you'll find it was the other way around,' Erik said softly.

'I thought…' she sighed. 'I thought I did but I was wrong, they were never the feelings I had for you,'

'I do care for you,' he said with about as much honesty as he could muster with his heart beating so hard in his chest.

She nodded, looked down at her hands on the blanket. 'And I you, Erik, please believe that,'

Unsure of how to respond he simply said, 'I do believe you,'

'Please, will you change?' she asked, her eyes drifting over his shirt again.

'You shouldn't worry about me,'

She stared at him for a long moment, her gaze so intense he almost looked away, yet something… _something_ held his eyes. She stepped towards him, so close that he could feel her warmth. Her hands reached up and found the top button of his shirt, he felt her fingertips through the material and held back a tremble.

'Christine,' he said, gently. She didn't flinch, her eyes focused on the top of his shirt, her hand resting on his chest. 'Christine…'

She carefully undid the top button. 'I'm going to take your shirt off, you'll be ill…'

Erik stood stock still, watched as she meticulously moved her fingers from button to button, he was too afraid to move, too afraid he might be dreaming. Every time her nail brushed his stomach, he felt a jolt rush through him, he fought the lump in his throat, swallowed his heart back to his chest.

The shirt fell open, showing his chest and stomach, Christine ran her hands under the shirt and pushed it away from his shoulders. She had to step close to him to pull the shirt off completely and he could feel her warm breath on his skin.

'Christine,' he said again but she ignored him, stared at his bare torso, her eyes focused. Slowly she began to run her fingertips along the scars on his chest, staring at them as though they might move at any moment.

The tips of her fingers were so soft, _so_ careful… he swallowed hard.

'Christine, what are you doing?' he asked her, softly, worried for a moment that she might have lost her mind.

She stared, her hands still on him. 'How could they?'

'Christine?'

'How could they do this to you?' she asked, her voice gentle and quiet, almost far away.

'Christine,' he repeated.

'To a boy, a _person_… how could they?' she looked up at him, when their eyes met he saw the anger within their clarity.

Erik opened his mouth to speak but nothing would come out, her eyes so full of zeal that he couldn't tear his own away. Her fingertips fell away from his chest and her hand searched for his. Erik let her grasp his hand, let her squeeze it, let her bring it to her lips…

His conscience got the better of him and he gently used his free hand to carefully take her hand away from his. Finally, she looked up at his face, their eyes locked again.

She liberated her hand from his and reached for his face, cupped his jaw with her tiny hand, rested her palm to his jaw. Her thumb stroked the top of his cheek and moved across his lips, his heart pounding violently against his ribs, he no longer felt cold but hot all over, tense, nervous… like he couldn't quite catch his breath.

It was then that she stood on her tip toes, slipped her arms around his neck and kissed his mouth. Internally his turmoil mounted but his heart won the battle and he wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her back. It was light, at first, the way their lips moved together but Christine pressed herself to him, pulling him closer and kissing him harder. Erik closed his eyes and let himself feel the moment, let his lips tingle, his heart thud, his skin _shiver_.

It was different to the first time they had kissed, in Paris, this wasn't about mercy, this was something else. There was something different in the way she held him, something new in the way she felt. When she finally pulled away from him he was utterly breathless, utterly lost in the moment.

'Erik,' she breathed, and he knew that no woman had ever spoken his name that way before, perhaps never would again. She reached for him again, touched the skin on his stomach with the very tips of her fingers.

'What are we doing?' he asked, finding his voice but not too well.

She looked up at him without fear, eyes wide and clear, and smiled gently. 'You have wonderful eyes, Erik, so crystal and clear,'

She ran her hands up his chest, leaned in and kissed his chin, his jaw… touched her teeth to his earlobe and breathed hot air onto his skin.

She stepped back from him and said, 'Help me out of my dress,'

'I…' Erik swallowed, his throat tightened. 'I can't,'

She smiled, asked softly, 'Why on earth not?'

'This isn't…' he stopped himself… thought… chose his words carefully. 'You don't want this,'

Christine giggled. 'Can I not decide for myself what I want and don't want?'

'Of course,' he replied.

'Then help me out of my dress,' she said gently, her eyes fixed on his.

Erik moved closer to her and gingerly helped her to unclip the buttons, being careful not to touch her as he did. He could feel her watching him.

'Are you sure…' he began to say, but she pressed her finger to his lips and nodded. She let her dress drop to the floor.

Erik closed his eyes.

'You can look, Erik,' Christine whispered.

He was too afraid to open his eyes, afraid that if he did she would be gone, that he had imagined the whole thing.

'Please open your eyes,'

And so he did.

Before him stood perhaps the most magnificent thing he had ever seen. Christine had slipped out of her under garments and was standing there in front of him, bathed in the orange glow of the fire, her bare skin painted in shades of reds and yellows, so soft against her paleness.

His throat was suddenly dry, words escaped him as he tried not to stare but she smiled at him and stepped back towards him, her delicate fingers finding the buckle of his belt.

Again, he felt he should stop her, 'Christine, we can't…'

She looked up, her eyes imploring him, 'Why can't we?' she asked, her voice as sweet, as pure, as honey.

'It would be…'

'Wrong?' she asked. 'Not wrong. I know you feel as though you're taking advantage of me. I can see it in your eyes… but I rather think it might be the other way around,'

Erik said nothing for he did not know what he could say. His heart was running away with him and soon it would be too late to turn back, too late to stop what was happening.

'I want to do this,' she whispered into his ear and then, with a little sadness she added, 'I'm not married anyway, and you're a ghost, you don't even exist… this isn't really happening at all anyway,'

When she kissed him again it was like nothing he had ever felt before, her lips pressed to his, inviting him to take all that he wanted. No woman had ever given herself wilfully to him before, in the past he had always paid… his face the biggest obstacle to love he had ever known. Now, Christine, the one he had loved for as long as he had known her, was offering herself to him.

His shirt lay on the floor with her dress and blanket, soon his trousers followed and he was clasped in her arms, not ever wanting to move. The smell of her skin, the touch of her hands, the _feel_ of her mouth … was almost too much to bear.

Christine let him explore her, let him run his hands and mouth along ever inch of her body. To him, her skin felt like the softest silk, her lips tasted of the sweetest fruit and he was lost in her. On the floor, as the fire burned, she gave herself to him. They made love slowly and carefully, so passionately that it was the most tender thing he had ever felt. He would never forget the way her fingers grasped at his back, the way she pressed herself to him, wrapped herself around him, whispered in his ear…

When the time came, he was sorry it was over but she lay on her back and held him to her, running her fingers through his hair and kissing his temple affectionately. She pulled the blanket over them, keeping him close, and without a word to each other they both felt sleep wash over them.

The peace that Erik felt that night was unrivalled, he knew that Christine was lonely and she saw him as her protector, but for that moment he could pretend that she loved him. He could pretend that he had finally done enough to show her, for her to feel the same way.

If only he could pretend forever.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Sorry it's been a few weeks- I've been away. Thank you, as always for the reviews and messages. I hope you all had a great Christmas and that the new year brings you all much love, happiness and success.**

**xx**

**Chapter 23**

Erik woke with a start and took a sharp intake of breath, his eyes adjusting quickly to the dim light in the living room. Christine was asleep at his side but the fire was beginning to die and a chill was creeping into the room. Carefully, he slid his arm from underneath her and slipped his trousers on, being as cautious as he could, not wanting to wake her… wanting her to be undisturbed.

He prodded the fire with the iron poker, it felt stone cold in his warm hand. The action caused small, orange sparks to spill out from the hearth but the fire remained low, barely a glimmer of light and warmth. There wasn't much wood left at the side of the fire but he threw it on anyway and then stood from his crouch to go and fetch some more from the kitchen.

As he did Christine stirred behind him.

'What's wrong?' she asked, sleepy eyes peering up at him in the darkness.

'The fires low,' he said, quietly still, even though she was awake. 'I'm going to get some wood to stoke it back up… we'll freeze, otherwise,'

'I'll help,' she said as she pushed herself up. She stood naked in front of him and after a second too long, he found the strength to turn away.

She only giggled and pulled her clothes on, sliding her feet into her shoes to keep her toes warm.

'You don't have to help,' he told her.

'I want to,' she responded.

'It's cold out…'

'Oh shush,' she said, smiling at him. There was no awkwardness emanating from her, she was treating him exactly as she would any other day, but there was something in her eyes when she looked at him. Something he couldn't quite pinpoint. Something wonderfully bright, settled, _different_.

'You just put a shirt on and I'll go and start grabbing some wood,' she said.

He stared at her for a long moment, unsure of her… unsure of himself. He could still feel her on him, he could still feel her around him… he couldn't shake the sensation of her body against his and when he looked at her, he barely noticed anything but the way he loved her.

Certainly, he could see her… the softness of her eyes, the slight blush of her flushed cheeks… but that wasn't it. He saw around her, through her, into her… he saw everything and yet, somehow, his mind could make no sense of it and he saw nothing at all.

Every thought in his mind was confused… his heart had once again taken over and he felt as though no logic would ever find him again.

Christine was staring at him curiously, wide eyes taking him in as he tugged at his boots and searched for his shirt. He tried not to look back at her, knowing that he stared at her far too much as it was, but knowing that one mere look at her face would never quite be enough to quench his thirst for her beauty.

She smiled and he managed a smile back, a thud of his heart came and was so strong he wondered if she had heard it. She hadn't. He grabbed his shirt from the floor and watched her back as she walked through the door and out of the room.

He noted, not for the first time, that she swayed slightly when she walked… a gentle swish, swish of her slender hips as her feet moved elegantly across the floor. Antoinette Giry was the only other woman he knew who walked that way… an effortless grace that not many people possessed.

His fingers worked at the buttons on his shirt but his mind was with Christine, with the feel of her, and he couldn't even concentrate on that… buttoning his shirt… the most simple and mundane of tasks. This is what Christine Daae… _De Chagny_… this is what _she_ did to him.

For the first time in months he felt some hope about their chances of survival, about the way he would free her from her shackles, from those who pursued them. He knew it now though, even now, that he would still have to let her go. Even as she was in his arms that night, even the memory of her lips on his, _even then_, he could not allow himself the fantasy that she could be with him.

That idealism, in his own mind, had ended tragically before. Perhaps he would need to settle for the memories she had given him that night and perhaps, maybe, just _maybe_… he could be content with that.

It was as he was walking to the door that he heard the clatter of metal and the sound of wooden logs crashing to the ground in the kitchen. Christine screamed, piercing into his optimism like a sword, and cried his name.

Suddenly alert, he sped from the room.

'Erik!'

The scream was more muffled and he could hear extra footsteps… she wasn't alone, she hadn't just dropped the wood. He knew that.

He ran through into the dark kitchen with enough time to see Jason pull Christine through the back door, his hand covered her mouth, her eyes wide with terror. He stepped forward but he had made a mistake, a horrible mistake.

As he stepped into the room he felt a sharp pain at the back of his skull, just as he heard the movement behind him. Whoever it was had hit him hard and he struggled to stay on his feet. Dazed he spun around, but dizziness swept over him. A dark shape moved in front of him and something came crashing down again- not a fist, something harder- and he dropped to his knees.

'Christine…' he managed, but the sound wasn't right, wasn't coherent. He could just make out the blurred image of Jason and Christine still in the doorway. Despite his best efforts he dropped from his knees completely to the ground and lay on his back.

He struggled to control his breathing, his head thumped in excruciating pain, his eyes would not focus. The figure that had hit him still stood over him.

Jason's voice pierced the new, eerie quiet. 'No!'

The black figure said, 'What?'

'Don't hit him again,' Jason ordered, but the sound of his voice seemed very far away. Like an echo.

'Why not?' the other man asked. Erik knew he didn't recognise the voice.

It worried him that he could not hear Christine.

'Because you will kill him,' Jason clarified.

'Why wouldn't we want that?' the man asked, getting further away now, in spite of the fact that Erik was fighting to stay awake.

'The question should be, why _would_ we want that?' Jason said, and even in his diminished state, Erik could hear the incredulousness in his voice.

The dark figure didn't move.

'Move, now, we need to go,' Jason commanded.

As the dark figure above him moved away, Erik began to slide… his eyes closed, he lost his senses, his mind went blank… he had lost control.

* * *

Christine tried to bite at his fingers but it was absolutely no use, his hand was clamped there too tightly, pinning her jaw shut. She didn't know how they had managed to get into the kitchen and furthermore how they had managed to get there without Erik hearing them.

She didn't know the man whose arm was around her waist, whose fingers were pressed to her mouth. He was dragging her from the room, roughly and yet he didn't hurt her. The other man waited and when Erik ran in, when her eyes met his, the other man hit Erik across the head with a chunk of the wood.

She had tried to scream again, nothing came out, she had kicked and struggled, pulled and pushed but the man holding her was simply too strong. Erik was strong too, though, she knew that, and even the shot to the head did not render him immobile. He remained on his feet but even in the blackness of night she could see that he was dazed.

The second swipe with the wood came harder and this time brought Erik to his knees, but she could see him fight it… could see him searching for her. He had mumbled her name and then dropped to the floor.

The man raised his arm again ready to bring the log down on Erik, just one more time, but to her relief the man holding her stopped him. He sounded angry and the other man didn't hit Erik again, clearly the one holding onto her was in charge.

Then they had dragged her away.

'Put this over her,' the man in charge said to the other man.

She was gagged and lying in the back of a carriage. The other man grunted and threw the blanket over her.

The man in charge shook his head. 'Put it over her _properly_… we need to keep her warm,'

'We're not bloody nannies you know?'

'No,' the man in charge said, rolled his eyes as he spoke. 'But if she isn't warm enough then she might die and that won't do,'

The other man didn't argue further, and leant over tucking the blanket around her arms and body. The smell of him was harsh and stale, he winked at her as he moved close and, had she not had the cloth in her mouth, she might have spat on him. When he finally moved away a shiver ran over her making her colder than she had ever been.

Alone in the carriage she felt tears prick at her eyes but she fought them away. She would not, _could_ not, allow herself to think the worst… to think that Erik might die. The thought of him being left in that kitchen, on the stone floor, alone and probably bleeding, made her freeze to the core.

She couldn't let herself think like that and so instead she thought about the time before, the night before, when she had been wrapped up in him, warm and safe, comfortable and free. She allowed herself the memory of his stubbly cheek on her face and the smell of his hair, it might not have been right but it had been what she wanted.

She felt guilty now, not too much, but enough. Raoul had not been gone for long but she did not feel like she had cheated him, it was something else. She felt guilty because making love with Erik was so different to making love with Raoul. Raoul had been tender, yes, kind, yes… attentive, passionate, loving,

Raoul had been all of those things.

He hadn't felt like Erik though, it hadn't felt as _good_ with Raoul, as _right_. She had never felt that connected to anyone before in her life. She tried not to wonder too much about what it meant but the thought was there, in her mind. Burrowing deeper.

She didn't let herself think that she was not going to make it out of this alive. Instead, she thought about what she would say to Erik when she next saw him. Would she tell him that she was sorry? That it was a mistake?

It didn't really matter because at that moment, the thought of him warmed her. From now on, and for the last few months, no matter what had happened, wherever there was Erik there was hope.

And so she lay in silence, wrapped up in the blanket but still cold, as the carriage clunked along taking her further away from the house. She lay there and thought of Erik, of the kindness he had shown her, of Christmas Eve when he sang for her, of Christmas day in the snow. She thought of kissing him and holding him and keeping him safe, as well as he kept her.

Where there was Erik, there was hope and so she kept him with her, in her mind.


	24. Chapter 24

A/N: Sorry I haven't been around. I am not updating regularly, and for that I ask you to forgive me, but I am still updating and I am still writing. For those who are still there, thank you. For those who are lost:

**The story begins in London, in the dead of night and pouring rain. Erik shields Christine from a masked gunman who has just shot, and killed, Raoul (Christine's husband). The gunman takes Erik and Christine, with pistol aimed at them, along the Thames where Erik tells them he has hidden what the man seeks. A document. Christine and Erik manage to overpower the man and un mask him. Christine recognises him as an hunting acquaintance of Raouls. After being berated for being cowardly by Christine, Erik shoots and kills the man, leaving him in the street. **

**They bunk at Nadir's London, alleyway home, where Christine reflects on her hatred of Erik, her loss of Raoul and what led to them being with Erik in the first place. Erik's brother, Philippe had brought them the mysterious document sealed tightly within an envelope. Encouraged never to open it but to guard it until Gustav Edmund asks for it, Philippe leaves them and is later found dead in France. **

**Knowing the danger they are in Raoul seeks out Erik as the only man he believes can protect them (Christine) from this evil. Erik reluctantly agrees. **

**Alone with Erik, Christine feels anger and distrust. She continually snipes at him, is rude to him but as we know, Erik can be reactive and he soon loses patience and tells her to go her own way. Unfortunately, she does and is being followed. She is stabbed in the side by a man but Erik saves her and carries her back to Nadir's home where he sews her wound. Christine has found new respect for Erik and their relationship slowly develops back into a friendship.**

**Nadir learns, through his contacts, that this document and the man who killed Raoul have royal connections. The police are hunting Christine, mistakenly believing that she has killed either Raoul or the other man (or both) in a love triangle gone wrong. Christine has no one to turn to except for Erik. **

**One night, while she is sleeping and Nadir is out, Nadir's housemate betrays them for reward and they are attacked in the home. Erik kills the man and he and Christine flee with a few backs full of food, clothes and blankets (whatever they are able to carry). They find inns and sleep out in the cold, together, making friends and enemies along the way on the journey to save Christine and protect the document. **

**Now it is no longer about protecting the document but finding out what is in it, and who is trying to kill Christine.**

**Chapter 24**

It was the pain that had knocked him unconscious and it was the pain that eventually brought him around. Erik groaned as he forced his eyes open, the pain endlessly thumping at the back of his head, the sunlight that greeted him was neither welcome nor pleasant. It felt piercing as it shot into his eyes and he quickly squeezed them closed again, this time the throbbing searing across his forehead.

He raised his hand to his eyes and squeezed the top of his nose, hoping to quell the worsening ache that was spreading around his entire skull. Unable to remember the last time he had felt something as physically agonising as this, he actually managed to, once again, compel his eyes to open.

He lay on his back, his eyes adjusting to the bright light, staring up at the ceiling. Memories began to flood back to him, the night before, Christine's kiss, Christine's scream… _Jason_… he pushed himself up with as much difficulty as he had ever felt in his life and sat looking around him, trying to comprehend what had happened.

What a fool he was to have let his guard down so completely! He wanted to blame Christine, but he knew, deep down, that it was his fault. The entire mess was his fault. They should never have stayed in his home, he should never have allowed himself to succumb to his feelings, never allowed himself to feel so comfortable- so _complacent_. All of these years and he had learnt absolutely nothing. Christine was the one person, the _one_ thing, that made him behave so out of character, so carelessly.

He was furious with himself and the anger that pumped through his veins did nothing to relieve the pounding in his brain. Aching, he reached up and gingerly felt the back of his head. The merest touch made him wince and he felt the gash with a little disgust and a lot of pain. When he moved his fingers away the tips were coated with a thick layer of sticky blood, though he was pleased to note it was not particularly wet, meaning that the bleeding had probably now stopped.

Finally, he summoned the strength and struggled onto his feet, his balance so unsteady it almost frightened him. He grabbed the large, wooden kitchen table, leaving bloody stains where his hands had been, and steadied himself. His eyesight blurred and then focused again until some of his bearings returned and the room seemed stable.

The kitchen was quiet and bright with winter sunshine, a stark but real contrast to the previous night. Erik turned around carefully, still not sure of his steadiness, and stared at the floor where he had been lying. There was a pool of dark blood, so deep it looked black under his shadow, and a chunk of firewood left discarded to his right. He glanced towards the rear door, wide open and letting the cold pour in, his internal clock was gone and he had no idea what time it was.

With care he made his way across the kitchen and into the living room, where he found his pocket watch. It was nearly ten in the morning. He tried to cast his mind back, what time had he woken up for the firewood? He figured it must have been around two that morning but he wasn't sure why. At best it was a little later, at worst a little earlier. If he was right it meant that Christine has been gone for nearly eight hours, time enough for them to be a huge distance ahead of him.

He looked at the complete disarray in the room, Christine's small shoes thrown aside, her hair tie on the fireplace, his jacket flung onto the floor. He began to reach down to lift his jacket and felt a momentary wave of nausea, a sensation he wasn't very accustomed to and certainly didn't welcome. Using the back of the chair to steady himself he grabbed his jacket and threw it over his shoulder. He wished that he could move faster, he felt urgency gushing through him, but his body would not allow quick or deft movements.

Christine was all he could think of and yet the pain in his head was trying it's very best to overtake his thoughts. He shook it away, squeezed his eyes closed and readied himself to climb the stairs. He was careful and methodical and once in his bedroom he found a new set of clothes. Changing into them took him nearly fifteen minutes… fifteen minutes longer that Christine was in danger. He dug into his storage chest and removed his dagger, sword and a length of rope which he carefully tied into a lasso.

The dagger went into a sheath in his boot, the sword balanced at his waist and the rope wrapped over his body. Feeling more human, but only just, he descended the stairs and moving quickly now, went outside to the stables.

Relief washed over him when he saw that both horses were still there, eating the oats he had left and staring at him curiously, as horses often did. He filled all of the baskets and troughs around the room with water and oats, taking up more valuable time but it needed to be done. Then he patted Melody on the shoulder and moved Chancery into the light, where he could prepare him.

For the first time that morning he thought that maybe they had a chance. Jason and his goon would not kill Christine without knowing where the document was. She couldn't give them this information because she simply did not know. Jason had not had the foresight to kill the horses, something that Erik would have done without hesitation. Now, Erik had transport and his head was beginning to hurt a little less.

Perhaps this Jason was not as formidable an opponent as Erik had first thought. It was rudimentary to ensure that there was no way the biggest threat, in this case Erik, could make any form of attack. Not only had they not killed the horses they had neglected to tie him up, in the least. Erik would have killed the biggest threat, but each to their own.

As Erik mounted Chancery and spurred him on through the fields he fixed Jason's face in his mind, keeping it there to remind him of his task. This man had been warned and that he had let Erik live would not save him if he had harmed Christine in any way.

This was his vow.

* * *

It was dark again by the time he found himself pounding on the door to Nadir's home. The Persian opened the door without the slightest look of surprise or fatigue and let Erik into the living quarters.

'Dare I ask?' Nadir said, lifting his eyebrows as Erik warmed his hands briefly at the fire.

'I need you to stitch my head,' Erik stated.

Nadir stared at him for a long moment but asked no questions, instead he said, 'Sit, then, I'll get you some whiskey,'

Erik, for once, did as he was told, glad to feel the softness of the settee underneath him. Nadir came back into the room with a box in one hand and a glass of amber liquid in the other. He handed the glass to Erik without a word but his dark eyes were clouded with curiosity, possibly even worry.

Erik drank the glass of whiskey in one swallow and welcomed the way it burned his throat, it took his mind away from the pain in his head.

'I see you're a little worse for wear,' Nadir said calmly as he heated a needle over the blazing fire. He poured Erik another drink and then stood behind him. 'This will sting,' he said as he pressed his fingers to the wound on the back of Erik's head.

_Sting_ was not the word Erik would necessarily have used in this situation. The pain that shot through his flesh as Nadir pressed and sewed his wound was close to unbearable, but he thought that the whiskey was probably helping and so he took another large mouthful.

'They took her,' Erik said to stop himself from throttling the Persian with his bare hands. The pain was terrible but Erik told himself that Nadir was helping, doing only what he himself had asked.

'Nasty wound,' Nadir commented.

'Did you not hear me, Daroga?' Erik blazed, suddenly furious with the older man.

He heard Nadir sigh behind him. 'Yes,'

'She is _gone_,'

'Should I ask how this happened?' Nadir asked.

'I have a gash on the back of my head,' Erik said with as much patience as he could must. 'I would have thought it was quite plain how it happened,'

'That isn't exactly what I meant,' Nadir said.

'Then what did you mean?' Erik asked, feeling his pulse quicken with his anger.

'I wish you would stay calm,' Nadir said.

'Answer the question, then,'

'I meant,' Nadir said as another jolt of sharp pain pierced into Erik. 'How did they manage sneak up on you so well that they could hit you and incapacitate you? In case you weren't aware, you aren't terribly easy to incapacitate,'

Erik slumped in the chair, unable to fight it anymore. 'It was my fault,'

Nadir walked around and washed his hands in a bowl on the sideboard. 'It was either going to be yours or hers,'

Erik glared at him but swallowed his anger. 'I need your help,'

'I assumed you might,'

'And will you help me?'

Nadir stared at him.

'_What_?' Erik snapped.

'Of course I will help you,' Nadir said softly. 'Believe it or not, you're my friend,'

Anger quickly dissipating Erik said, 'I need to find her first,'

'That shouldn't prove too difficult,' Nadir smiled and sat down, 'Who took her, do you know?'

'Jason,'

'Ah,' Nadir smiled. 'I'm glad you said that, I've been doing some digging since your last visit,'

Erik glanced up, intrigued.

'Jason Mayfair,' Nadir began, 'One wife, one daughter, one son… all very neat,'

'Who told you this?'

Nadir held up his index finger and waggled it at Erik, 'You know better than to ask me that, Erik,'

Erik shrugged, as if he didn't really care, but the truth was that he did.

'The family live in a quaint little cottage just the other side of London,' Nadir continued. 'It won't take us long to get there on horseback but I would suggest going in the morning,'

Erik stared at him in disbelief. 'Didn't you hear what I said, Daroga?'

'Which part?' Nadir asked, the glow of the fire making shadows ripple across his face.

'They have taken her… I need to find her,'

Nadir stopped. 'You're letting your emotions cloud your judgement,'

Erik opened his mouth to protest but knew that Nadir was right. It had been happening too much recently, it had got them into this mess in the first place.

'You need to rest and eat,' Nadir said. 'Not only that but your horse will be exhausted,' his brown eyes sparkled. 'Did you stable the horse at the inn?'

Erik managed to nod.

'There are two things that we both know,' Nadir prompted.

Erik smiled ruefully. 'Christine has been taken on the order of someone else,'

Nadir nodded his head almost sagely. 'And therefore probably won't be taken there for another day or so, Jason would not have been too specific with his time line… just in case you posed a bigger threat. He couldn't have known that Christine would cast a spell on you,'

Erik let the comment go, feeling too weak to argue now, instead he said, 'The other thing we know is that Christine doesn't have what they want,'

'_You_ do,'

Erik nodded.

'With you?'

'Yes,'

'Have you read the contents?'

'No,'

'Do you plan to?'

'Not yet,'

Nadir nodded, 'Then you should sleep, unless I can coax you into eating,'

Erik raised his hand and shook his head.

'Then sleep it is,'

His head was still pounding and felt tight from the stitches that Nadir had put in. He reached back and touched the wound and the whole area around it felt bruised and tender. It wasn't long before he felt his eyes becoming heavy. He thought of Christine and how frightened she must be, but he knew too, that Nadir was right. Erik would be no good tired and in pain, he needed rest and probably breakfast.

He could hear Nadir snoring in his chair before he felt sleep begin to take him over.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Well, I've spent a few days now getting my head around the released music for Love Never Dies (for those Phantom fans living in a cave, it is the sequel to the original Phantom). The music is growing on me, although I believe it was recorded late last year and there have been changes since then. **

**Some of it is woeful, but lets face it, lyrically the original is hardly perfect. **

**My tickets arrived for the show although I am unable to see it until September (many of the nights I wanted to go to were sold out and I wanted good seats, September it is). **

**There are parts of the music that make me cringe and so far, I have to say, none of it has made me feel the way the overture did in the original. I haven't felt the tingles or the goosebumps… however, 'Beneath the Moonless Sky' is a strangely seductive number which has really grown on me and, try as I might, I can't help but close my eyes when Christine sings:**

'**I loved you, yes I loved you…'**

**Comments on the fan fic, on the reviews page if you will and anything about LND- to my inbox (so as not to get in trouble with FF!!!**

**Aslo, I haven't even read this chapter since it was written so it probably isn't the best.**

**Chapter 25**

The next morning came around quickly and it frightened Erik how deeply and soundly he had managed to sleep. Nadir was pottering around, trying to force Erik to eat bread and oats. In the end, it was easier to give in, and so he ate a chunk of bread and half a bowl of oats, followed by heated milk.

He definitely preferred the whiskey.

The Persian seemed in absolutely no rush and the more time he took getting himself ready the more Erik's patience began to wear thin. Eventually, just before Erik's breaking point, Nadir strolled in with his jacket on, dagger on his belt and told Erik he was ready to leave.

Erik stood, glaring at the Persian and said, 'Glad to hear it,'

Nadir shot him a sideways glance but said nothing. He locked his home up carefully, checking that both the doors and the windows were secure. Erik stood and waited, staring at the overcast sky and feeling his fingers tingle under the power of the strong wind.

'It's cold today,' Nadir said, reading his mind as he led the way down the alley and towards the inn, where both of their horses would be stabled.

Erik glanced at him. 'It's cold every day,'

'Yet you don't feel it,'

'I feel it lately,' he said and left it at that.

The inn keeper was up, brushing the front of the pub down and sending billows of dust in the cool air. It swirled around like it was dancing in the breeze and then settled barely a few feet from where the publican was cleaning. Erik thought this process of cleaning was utterly pointless but clearly the inn keeper would not agree.

'Good morning,' he said, aiming any friendliness squarely towards Nadir. Erik did not know the man well but had often put money in his pocket, and Erik briefly wondered whether the old man had some sort of sixth sense.

Hr shrugged the thought away as Nadir pressed a coin into the barkeeper's hand. 'How is she?' the Persian asked.

'She's a beauty, as always,' he drawled, sounding very cockney indeed. 'Good as gold, she is, sir,'

Nadir shot the man a genuine smile. 'Could you have your boy bring both horses around, please?'

The barkeeper stared at Erik's mask and, for a moment, Erik felt the all too familiar twitch in his fingertips, the burning in the pit of his stomach. Nadir subtly stood between them, smiling jovially. 'We're in a rush,'

'Of course, sir,' the man said, but his eyes kept returning to Erik's face. He felt his right fist clench. 'Billy!'

A few tense moments later a young boy with dirty blonde hair came bolting out from the back of the inn and stood in front of them. 'Fetch the two horses from the end stable,' the bar keeper instructed. The young boy didn't question his orders, he simply carried them out quickly.

While they were waiting, Nadir was careful to stay between Erik and the barkeeper. Erik's apprehension was building, thought's of Christine filled his mind and although his head still hurt, that pain was nothing like the agony beating in his heart. After what seemed an eternity, but in reality was no more than twenty minutes or so, the boy returned holding the reins of both horses.

Nadir handed him some change, as a sort of tip, and Billy wandered off looking quite pleased with himself. The innkeeper didn't say anything more to them, Erik had paid up front and it was clear all three were uncomfortable standing in the street. Besides this, Erik was ready to go, he had been ready to go since the day before.

They both climbed onto the backs of their horses and moved off, Erik made his horse pick up the pace but Nadir caught them.

'Slow down,' he said.

Erik scowled.

'You know better,'

He tugged gently on the reins and slowed Chancery to a gentle walk. 'I'm not happy about this,'

'I see that but you know better than to gallop over the cobbles,' Nadir scolded.

'If you tell me off once more Daroga, I might kill you,'

The Persian smiled, 'There are two reasons you won't kill me, my friend,'

Erik glared at him.

'You need my help,' he said. 'And you _are_ my friend,'

He wanted to argue but knew it was the truth. There had been times, over the years, when Erik would happily have killed the Persian but he had always stopped himself. It wasn't that Erik was incapable, of course he was, he had killed people he had considered friends in the past, but with Nadir things were different. Their relationship was one that was mutually beneficial but aside from that, Erik genuinely _liked_ Nadir. He would never admit it but the fact remained that Nadir was one of the few people he could trust and feel relaxed around.

As they made their way through London Erik noted that the roads were starting to become busier, bustling with traders and workers. Erik wondered what it would be like to live a life as normal as that. To get up in a morning and walk to a job you loathed, to make the pitiful income that keeps a roof over your family's heads. It surprised him that so few of the men in the streets looked miserable, most smiled and waved to one another, a phenomenon he thought was most unnecessary.

These were things he would never worry about. He had plenty of wealth from his time fleecing the managers at the Opera Populaire, the money that Raoul had paid and the various other 'jobs' he had taken on since his fall from the opera house. Still, silly things about normalcy often fleeted across his mind. His brain was never settled.

Thinking of them meant that he wasn't thinking of Christine.

Nadir led them from narrow street, to narrow street, navigating the people and animals as he did. The horses were both well behaved and patient, although Chancery seemed tired. As they continued their journey, the houses began to thin out until there were very few homes around at all.

'How far?' Erik asked, trying to be patient. Christine's soft features entered his mind and he shook her away.

'Just up there,' Nadir replied, pointing forward towards a small cottage in the near distance.

Erik nodded and dug his heels into Chancery's sides, making the horse bolt forward. Instead of chastising, this time Nadir prompted his horse to follow, and they pounded along the softer ground until they were close enough to the house to see in through the kitchen window.

'Loop around,' Erik instructed. Nadir nodded, following the order without question. Erik watched as Nadir disappeared behind some trees and then towards the rear of the house. Erik leapt from Chancery and pulled the horse aside, tying him carefully. He felt the handle of his sword, ensuring it was still there. He did not know what to expect when he walked in.

He wasn't foolish enough to think that Jason had actually brought Christine to his home but he thought that he might have left a guard or two with his wife while he was away. Calmly, he smoothed his jacket and walked slowly up to the house. There was no rush, it was better that his thinking was clear. Nadir had the back entrance to the home guarded and he would take the front. Other than those two doors there were only windows. Erik doubted the occupants would be quick enough to escape through those.

Taking a quick glance around him to ensure he was safe he knocked at the door. Only once, and hard. He heard a shuffling sound behind and the door opened, just a crack. But that was enough. Erik pushed his shoulder firmly against the solid wooden door and it flew open, sending the woman behind it sprawling to the floor. Erik strode in and closed the door behind him.

'Is there anyone else here?' he asked as she curled up into a ball in the corner of the hallway.

She managed to shake her head. 'Are you sure?' Erik asked. 'I would be very disappointed if I were to discover that you had lied to me,'

'There is no one here,' she croaked. 'I'm alone,'

'Where are your children?'

She glanced at her hands. 'Away,'

Not a lie, clearly, but not the whole truth either. Whichever way, she was alone in the house, he knew that when he saw Nadir walk in.

'Who are you?' the woman managed to ask.

'Erik,' he answered.

'I…'

'You don't need to know any more than that,'

The woman turned and looked at the Persian, who stood stoically and silently. She swallowed, 'What do you want with me?'

'Where is your husband?' Erik asked, ignoring her question.

'I don't know,'

Erik watched her face, her eyes. 'You're lying,'

With that there was a noise and in bounded a young girl, blonde hair and teary blue eyes. She ran for the woman and Nadir slung his arm across her, lifting her in the air with her feet kicking as she wailed and tried to reach her mother. Nadir simply pressed his gloved hand to her mouth, silencing her cries to whimpers.

'Let her go!' the woman screamed.

Erik glared at her, feeling his shoulders and arms tense with anger. 'Be quiet,' he said, his tone cool.

'Let her go,' the woman demanded. 'Don't hurt her, let her go…'

'You lied to me,' Erik said, deliberately shifting his body so that he blocked her view of her daughter.

The woman's blue eyes were moist, 'I didn't,'

Erik glanced at the daughter.

'What are you doing here, Mary?' she asked the young girl, who was still kicking in Nadir's arms. 'I told you I would fetch you later…'

The girl, Mary, stopped kicking but tears streamed from her eyes and settled on Nadir's black glove. The woman turned back to Erik,' She isn't supposed to be here,'

'Where is your husband?' Erik asked.

She said nothing.

'What is your name?'

'Anne,' she croaked.

'Anne,' he said quietly. 'Anne, I'm going to give you this opportunity to make amends with me,'

She nodded but didn't look terribly eager.

'I'm going to ask you one more time,' Erik explained. 'You can answer me or not, that is your decision entirely. You should be warned, though, that if you choose not to answer me then I can't be held accountable for what my friend does to your child,'

Anne's eyes widened.

'So,' He said. 'Where is your husband?'

Anne's eyes flicked from Erik's face to her daughter and then back again. Erik wasn't sure if she was looking for something in his eyes, some mercy, but whatever she was looking for she didn't find it.

She _couldn't_ find it.

It wasn't there.

'I can't tell you,' she said softly. 'But I can take you there,'

Erik waited for the punch line and without fail, there it was.

'But you have to let my daughter go,' Anne added firmly.

Erik smiled. It always amazed him how they thought that they could bargain their way out of things, how that just because they had something he wanted, they could talk him around. It didn't work like that, not with Erik, it _never_ worked like that.

'No,' Erik said, still smiling at her. He almost pitied her as her eyes widened again in shock.

'Then I won't…'

'You will,' Erik countered. 'You must,'

'I don't have to do anything,'

'That's where you're wrong,' Erik said sharply, the smile gone from his face. 'I can find your husband without you, but with you it will be quicker. If you don't take me to where he is..' He shrugged, '... I will kill you,'

Anne almost looked relieved.

_Pity_.

'Not only that,' Erik continued. 'Before I kill you I will make you wait while I kill your daughter... then I'll let you think about it for a while. I might even leave you with her … _afterwards_, I will kill you too, although it will probably seem merciful by then,'

She blinked tears away.

Mary was silent now, too terrified to move or mumble or cry… almost too scared to breath.

'Would you really do that?' Anne asked.

'I'm a man of my word,' Erik replied coldly. 'You can count on that.'

She shook her head. 'You're a monster,'

'Indeed,' he said. 'Now, shall we go?'

She nodded. 'Don't hurt her…' she said to Nadir.

Nadir didn't flinch.

'If I'm not back in six hours,' Erik said to Nadir. 'Kill her,'


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: Apologies for delay. Posting two chapters. Thank you for the reviews! This is not far from over now...**

**Chapter 26**

Erik grabbed Anne's arm roughly, and dragged her, without mercy, towards the secluded spot where he had tethered Chancery to a post. The horse was chewing on some grass, oblivious it seemed, as Erik pulled the reins away from the fence and climbed on his back.

Anne stared up at him. 'Am I to walk?'

Erik scowled down at her but slid off the back of his horse anyway and looked her in the eye. They were a deep brown, a colour he adored on Christine, yet this woman's eyes seemed soulless, almost _completely_ lifeless. Without saying anything he turned and took a length of twine out of the knapsack hooked over the saddle.

As he began to bind her hands together she flinched away from him and if her were a different man, he may have felt some sympathy for her. He knew how strange a feeling it must be, to know that your life is in danger and yet to also know there is very little you are able to do.

He stared at her coldly. 'I don't intend to hurt you,' he stated with honesty, at least for that moment, and pulled her wrists back towards him.

'You don't need to tie me,' she said pathetically, without tugging away from him.

'I don't have time to argue with you,' Erik said as he wound the twine around her until he was satisfied that she couldn't unhook herself.

Anne attempted to wrench her hands apart but it was useless, Erik had always been rather good with knots. 'I won't run,' she sighed.

Erik glared at her. 'No, you won't,'

He glanced up at Chancery. 'Does your husband intend to stay where he is for long?'

Erik asked, patting the horses shoulder as he began to walk holding the reins. Anne was reluctant but she followed eventually, slowly finding a decent balance which must have been awkward with her with her hands tied in front of her.

'Until the morning,' she answered, trying to keep pace with him.

'He told you that?' Erik asked.

She nodded, tears in her eyes. It made them look at least human.

'Is there something else you want to tell me?'

She stared at him for a long moment before shaking her head. Erik let the question go unanswered, because whatever she was keeping to herself, was irrelevant to them getting to Jason. He could see in the way she walked, in the lifeless eyes, in the way she now obeyed, that she had given up trying to reason with him.

They walked in silence for a long time and the cold air jabbed at him as he led Chancery and his quarry along the solid ground of the frozen fields. Occasionally, Anne would give directions but all in all the quiet remained around them. There weren't many homes and they past little in the way of shelter, worrying him in case they needed to hide. Still, it would all be over soon… one way or another.

'He is a good man,' Anne said suddenly.

Erik glanced sideways at her.

'My husband,' she clarified, as if she might actually be referring to someone else. 'Jason, he is a good man.'

He resisted the urge to stop and throttle her, instead he asked calmly, 'Do you know why your husband has holed himself up out here?'

Anne continued to walk, eyes firmly focused on the ground by her feet. 'No,'

It sounded like a lie to Erik's ears but there was a tone of truth to it too, and he was, for the first time, unsure of himself. He turned his head to look at her, but she continued to stare at the ground, unable to meet his gaze.

'The good man you speak of has kidnapped someone very dear to me,' Erik said.

Anne looked up sharply. She didn't know that.

'We're on our way to retrieve her,' he informed her.

Anne paused and then said, 'He won't hurt her,'

Erik almost laughed. 'Whether he hurts her or not is irrelevant to the fact that he has taken her and shouldn't have,'

Anne blinked and looked away again, this time into the distance which was blurred with a thin layer of late winter mist. Erik breathed out in a sigh and watched as the air swirled in front of his face. He knew that Anne was now thinking of her husband and of the woman Erik had accused him of kidnapping. The fact that she had not immediately defended him or denied that he would do such a thing, suggested that she was aware that Jason was more than capable of the act.

'How much further?' Erik asked as an old, frozen leaf crunched beneath his foot.

'We're nearly there,' Anne replied without looking at him.

Erik reached over and patted Chancery's solid shoulder. He would not ride the horse yet because he knew he might need him to escape. Erik did not want him worn out.

'This is a long way to walk,' Anne commented sullenly, as if reading his mind.

Erik glanced sharply at her.

'What if you aren't able to get back to the house within six hours?' she asked him, finally turning her wide eyes on him.

'Then my friend will kill your daughter,' Erik shrugged.

'What if…'

Erik shook his head. 'We are nearly there, you said that yourself, and we have walked,' Erik explained. 'It has been just two hours and I have the horse to get me back… if my friend is safe, and we leave in good time, then your Mary will be absolutely fine,'

Anne stopped walking and glared at him. 'I don't think your friend will hurt her,' she said with a bizarre and unfounded conviction. Erik just assumed that she simply wanted to believe it so much that she had convinced herself of its truth.

He continued to walk though, choosing to ignore her foolishness. Unhappy with this Anne shouted after him, 'I'm going back!'

Erik finally stopped Chancery and turned to look at her. 'Do as you please,'

She stared at him for a long moment but Erik turned his back to her. He knew he was close to the destination and as there weren't many homes around, he assumed he would be able to find Jason without her aid now. What she didn't seem to understand was that if she went back without Erik, Nadir would probably kill her.

'Why aren't you stopping me?'

Again he turned to face her, she held her hands out in front of her, still bound with rope, as if pleading for him to answer her.

'Because there is no need,' Erik answered simply.

She stared at him blankly.

'We are nearly there, are we not?' he asked.

After thinking for a moment she nodded.

'Then I am capable of finding your husband myself,' Erik said. 'But be warned… if you go back to the house without me, then I cannot know what my friend will do,'

Despite the fact that Erik could find Jason's 'camp' himself, he wanted Anne with him as collateral. He didn't know what he would find when he got there and knew that Jason's wife would at least give him some bargaining power.

Dejected, Anne decided to follow him.

'It is just around that hill,' Anne said, pointing. Erik nodded and they continued to walk while Erik assessed the options open to him in his head. He could tie Anne and Chancery up and take a look around the area, get an idea for what he was up against or he could just walk in.

As he thought they continued to move and he finally saw fine wisps of smoke climbing above the hill. He tied Chancery to a nearby tree, hidden amongst bushes and then grabbed Anne's arm, taking the dagger he carried from its hiding place in his sleeve.

Pulling Anne along, they rounded the hill until he saw a small house with only three horses and a cart outside. He pressed the flat of the dagger to Anne's throat. 'Do not scream, I will not hurt you unless your husband gives me cause to,'

She swallowed hard and nodded her head. As they got closer to the door Erik recognised the voice of the man who had rendered him unconscious.

'Stop!' he shouted, moving towards them from the front of the house. 'Halt!'

Erik glanced up, finally allowing the man to see his face and to see Anne. The man stopped moving towards them.

'Where is she?' Erik asked, quietly.

'What are you talking about?'

Erik squeezed Anne's arm, causing her to yelp.

'She's inside,' the man said, seeing Anne's fear.

'With Jason?' Erik asked.

The man nodded, his eyes fixed firmly on Anne's face.

'Go inside,' Erik instructed.

The man backed into the opening and into the hallway of the house. Erik kept his grip firm on Anne and followed him inside. The hall led into a large living area where Jason stood next to the fire. Erik surveyed his surroundings and saw another man outside but could spot no other guards. Finally his eyes rested on Christine, who was sitting tied next to the fire with her hands in front of her. She looked unharmed and comfortable but pale.

When she saw him her eyes widened but she said nothing until Jason grabbed her and pulled her to him, he too pressed a knife to the throat of his captive.

'You found us,' Jason stated, gripping Christine tightly. She didn't look hurt, just irritated. Jason's eyes flicked to his wife and she stifled a sob. 'What do you intend to do now?'

'That is all very much dependent on you,' Erik said.

Jason looked around him, casting his eyes upon Erik's earlier assailant.

Erik laughed, 'Send him out, he won't get to me before I slit your wife's throat… then I will kill him,'

For a long time Jason stared but said nothing, the weight of the situation settling around them and Erik was sure that Jason knew that his options were limited. By the same token, though, he knew that Erik's options were just as poor.

'Go,' Jason ordered.

The man grunted. 'I could get to him,'

Jason smiled and shook his head. 'You think rather too much of your skills, Peter, and rather too little of our friend's,'

Peter resisted for a moment but eventually obeyed the order and slunk out through the back door, Erik could see him watching through the window but that seemed a safe enough distance and so Erik locked eyes with Jason once more.

'I know who you are,' Jason said to him, as they both stood there grasping their prey. 'Phantom,'

Erik raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Very little shocked him these days.

'Does that surprise you?' Jason asked but did not wait for a response. 'It shouldn't, I'm no idiot and I keep up to date with underworld dealings. I know you did some work for a colleague not long ago. Anyone who knows anything in London knows that if they are in the company of a man in black with a white mask then they should fear for their lives,'

Erik said nothing.

'I knew it the first time I saw you,' Jason continued. 'With Charles… the bumbling fool,'

Still Erik remained stoic, doing his best not to look at Christine.

'And even if I was still unsure after seeing you, what you did to our guard went a long way to confirming it,' Jason said. 'No mercy, no second thoughts and absolutely no emotion,'

Erik shrugged his shoulders. 'Would you like me to congratulate you on your powers of deduction?'

Jason shook his head. 'No,' he said. 'But you aren't completely without emotion are you? You're here, now, trying to rescue the woman you love,'

Erik smiled coolly, 'Not so,'

Jason looked surprised.

'I do not love her,' Erik said simply. 'I am being paid to protect her, should anything happen to her I will not be paid,'

'I don't believe you,' Jason snapped. 'Who is paying you? Her husband is dead!'

'The De Chagny family are paying me,'

'Why on earth would they do that?' Jason spat. 'They don't like her much and they hate you,'

Erik smiled. 'Isn't it obvious?'

Jason stared at him, unsure of what to do next. 'I have no idea what you're talking about,'

'Christine here,' Erik stated, 'Is with child… the de Chagny's are protecting their interests,'


	27. Chapter 27

_"Nobody said it was easy_  
_Oh, it's such a shame for us to part_  
_Nobody said it was easy_  
_No one ever said it would be so hard_  
_I'm going back to the start" - The Scientist, Coldplay_

**Chapter 27**

The air in the room was thick with a mixture of fear and anticipation. Christine felt Jason's grip tighten on her arm, the cold blade pressed firmly against her neck, and she tried to catch Erik's eye. It was no use, though, only once had he looked at her since he got there and she knew why. It had been foolish of them to let their guard down and Erik was focused now, unwilling to allow anymore distractions.

She had no idea who the other woman was but guessed that it might be Jason's wife or, possibly, his sister. Erik was nobody's fool and would have captured only someone that Jason would give in for.

Erik's lie about her being pregnant was both smooth and believable, so much so that for a moment she wondered if he knew something that she didn't. If the situation had not been so tense, she might just have laughed.

She watched as the dark eyed woman glanced nervously around her, terror etched into her expression. Christine, although a little bit frightened, did not have the same level of concern, for she knew that not only was Erik brilliant, but that she had lost almost everything that was dear to her anyway. Her life was barely even a sacrifice.

'Aside from all of that, she doesn't have what you want,' Erik said calmly, and Christine was once more amazed by his almost inhuman composure.

She felt Jason's breath on her neck quicken slightly as he listened to Erik's unruffled reasoning. 'And you think you know what I want?' Jason asked, without anger.

'Whatever is in the blasted document,' Erik said.

'I don't want that,' Jason shook his head. '_They_ want that… I just have to deliver Christine,'

'But what good is she to you?' Erik asked, his eyes glinting as he spoke. 'She doesn't have what they want, so what purpose does delivering her to your employers accomplish?'

Jason shuffled from one foot to the other. Christine could feel his nervousness, his uncertainty. 'Then who has the document?'

'I do,' Erik said, smiling.

'Where is it?' he asked.

'In my pocket,'

Christine could not work out if Erik was lying or not but the ease of the answer made it seem all the more believable.

Jason swallowed. 'Have you read it?'

Erik shook his head.

'It is damaging,' Jason stated.

'To who?'

'I don't know,' Jason sighed. 'All I know is that _whatever_ it contains is damaging to _whoever_ it concerns,'

Erik stared at him for a long moment before saying, 'Enough of this,'

'If you give me the document, I will hand Christine back to you,' Jason suggested.

Erik laughed. 'Absolutely not,'

'Why not?'

'I'm keeping the document _and_ I am leaving with Christine,' Erik said and Christine felt the grip on her arm tighten once more, as Jason tensed at Erik's words.

'That's hardly a bargain,'

'I have a blade to your wife's throat,' Erik pointed out. 'We will have a simple exchange. Christine for Anne,'

Jason's head dropped and he faced the floor, shaking his head. 'I can't do that,'

'Then I will kill your wife,' Erik said simply, his detached tone causing Jason's body to stiffen and Christine's heart to sink. Erik meant what he said, both Christine and Jason knew it.

'I will have to kill Christine then,'

Erik lifted his free hand and held his finger up, moving it from side to side, 'No, no,' Erik said, his eyes flashing gold. 'You need Christine… unless you intend to kill me to, to gain possession of the mystery,'

Jason sighed, all of the air pushing out of him as if deflating his spirit once and for all. She felt him loosen his grip, but not so much that she could escape. Jason glanced at his wife, 'I can't let her go, I have to take her with me,'

Erik shrugged his shoulders and Christine saw his knuckles whiten as he firmed his grip on the dagger. Christine felt her heart jump to her throat and before she knew it she was speaking, pleading with him, 'Erik, don't!' she shouted, although she wasn't quite sure where the words had come from.

For only the second time, he looked at her. His blue eyes, sharp and piercing, questioned her from across the room.

'Not for me,' Christine explained to him, as their eyes locked. 'Please, don't kill her,'

Erik's eyes flashed with irritation. 'It doesn't seem that he is taking me seriously,'

'He is,' Christine said, hoping that she didn't sound too desperate. 'Don't do this for me,'

Erik stared at her, anger etched into his face, but suddenly his eyes softened. Christine was sure that she was the only one to spot it but he did not try to hide it from her.

'I can't give you the document and I can't let you take Christine,' Erik said, his focus shifting back to Jason. Christine's captor stared at him in despair.

'I need to take, Christine,' Jason pleaded. 'You don't understand!'

'Then make me understand,' Erik said. 'You deny all knowledge of the contents of this envelope and yet you are absolutely insistent that your employer get Christine,'

Jason shook his head.

Jason's wife began to struggle and pull against Erik, trying to free herself.

'Stop,' Jason told her. 'Anne, stop it,'

'Let me go!' she sobbed.

'Anne, stop fighting him,' Jason demanded. 'He will kill you!'

'He intends to kill me anyway!' she screamed back.

'Anne…'

'Just tell them!'

Christine could nearly feel his uncertainty, could almost feel his anguish ripple from him through to her. And then, as if it was all too much, he sighed, 'They have my boy,'

Anne began to sob almost uncontrollably, and Christine's heart was suddenly heavy.

'Your son,' Erik clarified.

Jason simply nodded, his hands still holding Christine but his grip not nearly as firm. Still, she remained still, sorry for them both in spite of everything that had happened.

'So, you see, I can't let her go,' Jason swallowed. 'They could not find you themselves and when you killed one of my colleagues I told them I was no longer willing to help them. No matter what price they were prepared to pay me,'

Anne almost choked on her tears but Christine could see that Erik's grip was still strong. He had not eased on her at all, and the look on his face showed that he had no intention to either.

Jason sighed, 'So, they came to my home and took my son, in the night, they left a message for me… Christine is delivered to them or I never see my son again. This is why I must take Christine to them,'

Erik stared at him for a long moment, as if ascertaining whether or not he was telling the truth. Finally, he said, 'There are other ways,'

Jason shrugged. 'What are they?'

Erik glanced towards the window, 'Your friend out there,'

Jason nodded.

'Do you trust him?' Erik asked.

Again, Jason gave a nod of his head.

'With your wife's life?' Erik clarified.

'I do,'

'Call him in,'

Jason looked at Erik with unrestrained suspicion. 'Peter!'

The other man came running in, sword drawn, panting.

'Put that down,' Jason instructed.

Peter stared at him. 'Surely you're joking?'

Jason shook his head.

'There is a mad man in here with a dagger!' Peter pointed out, as if no-one else had noticed.

'And what will you do?' Jason asked him. 'With your sword? How will you get to him before he slits Anne's throat?'

Peter said nothing.

'And once he has done that, are you so confident that he could not defeat you?'

'I'm a soldier,' Peter said proudly.

'Yes, but not a killer,' Jason said softly. He pointed his free hand towards Erik. 'This man is, I have seen if for myself, with my own eyes, so lower your sword,'

Peter resisted but only momentarily. The sword clanked to the floor as Peter relinquished his grip on it. 'Why did you call me?'

This time it was Erik who spoke, 'We're both going to release our hostages into your care, Peter,'

Jason looked up startled. 'What?'

Erik ignored him. 'You will go back to Jason's home and retrieve his daughter from my friend, you must tell him that all is well as it was in Persia… or even with Christine there he might not release the girl to you, do you understand?'

'All is well as it was in Persia,' Peter repeated.

Erik nodded. 'From there, you and my friend must take all three ladies to France on the next available boat. Go to Paris and find Madame Antoinette Giry. Christine will show you the way,'

Peter was staring at him, confused. 'What will you do?'

Erik shrugged, 'Jason and I will be going to find his son,'

Jason breathed out hard, 'You will help me?'

Erik nodded. 'But only for Christine's safe passage to Paris,'

Jason thought for a moment. 'There will only be two of us,'

'Two is enough,' Erik said. 'I suspect I could do it alone but getting away with your son by myself would prove difficult,'

'Do you really have the document?' Jason asked.

'In my pocket,' Erik answered.

Jason nodded and Christine felt his grip on her loosen until she was free. She fought the urge to bolt away from him and, instead, controlled her emotions and walked carefully to the centre of the room, to a neutral point.

Anne's wide eyes peered at her as she suddenly found herself liberated from Erik's grasp, she stood completely still for a long moment before Erik cut the ties from her hands. Peter beckoned her to him and she walked over, timidly.

Christine's eyes met Erik's as he slid the dagger back into his sleeve. She opened her mouth to speak but Erik shook his head, he knew that she would plead with him.

'Peter,' Erik said, turning his gaze onto the soldier.

The man looked up.

'You were going to kill me,' he said.

Peter shook his head. 'Only wanted you unconscious,'

'Another blow to my head would likely have killed me,' he said. 'And you didn't seem to care at the time,'

'I didn't kill you,' Peter explained. 'Jason's right, I'm no killer,'

'He's also right about me,' Erik said ominously. 'If they don't make it to Paris safely I will hunt you down and kill you,'

Peter simply nodded.

Christine remained standing in the centre of the room, her heart beating wildly in her chest, fear of being without Erik washed over her and she suddenly found that she could barely breath. This time when their eyes met, Erik held his hand out. She stepped forward, placed her hand in his, felt warmth there and then collapsed into his chest.

'I'm sorry,' he whispered into her hair. She wrapped her arms around him, squeezed him as tightly as she could manage. She felt her tears escape but did nothing to stop them. 'I let you down, I'm sorry,'

She shook her head. 'Don't…'

'This is the only way,' he said.

'No, I can come with you,' she said, her voice muffled by his shirt.

He pulled away, holding her almost at arm's length, looked into her eyes and sighed. 'You can't, this is how you will be safe… in France,'

'I can help,'

His arms dropped to his sides as he stepped back from her, and the distance between them was suddenly far greater than the gap between them in that room. Christine swallowed the lump in her throat, used her fingers to wipe tears away from her face, and nodded at him.

'Thank you,' she managed to say. 'For doing all that you have done, for saving my life so many times…'

Erik looked at her and said, softly, _so softly_, 'Being with you is never a chore, it's been my pleasure to help you, to be near you,'

'This is it,' she swallowed, her throat dry and her voice cracking. 'Isn't it? For us,'

Erik smiled sadly, and said softly, 'There was never an us, was there?'

Christine turned her back, squeezed her eyes closed and walked away.


	28. Chapter 28

_**A:N: It seems that this story will be 34 chapters long. I have debated and debated on length as I had two possible ways of writing the ending (same ending just alternative ways of getting there). Some of you, I fear, will be dissatisfied but please remember what I have said all along. This is a story about Erik and Christine, NOT about the mysterious document. Answers will be given but perhaps not in the way many of you would like.**_

_**Anyway, thank you VERY much for the reviews and if I do disappoint you, I apologise. **_

Chapter 28

_Daggers_.

That's how it felt as he watched her leave the room. It felt like daggers to his heart. Worse still, she did not turn back, she did not take a moment to glance over her shoulder, she simply walked away.

Out of the door, out of the house and out of his life.

He knew he would not see her again and _that_ thought was even more painful than he had imagined all of the times he had allowed himself to think of it.

The silence in the room was broken by a shuffling noise and Erik became acutely aware of Jason's eyes boring into him from across the other side of the room. He thought it strange that the bounty hunter had not spoken to his wife, offered her words of comfort, of reassurance.

What did Erik know anyway, he was hardly the greatest authority on how someone should respond to emotional situations?

Still, that part of the saga was over now.

He turned his attention away from the door and over to Jason, who was standing still and looking rather more pale than was probably healthy.

'Where were you supposed to take her?' Erik asked. His voice sounded peculiar in his own ears, almost strained.

Jason glanced up and then, after a moment's thought, he slumped into the chair near the fireplace. 'Smithfield,' he eventually replied, much to Erik's irritation.

'In the centre of London?'

Jason nodded.

'Why bring her here first?' Erik asked.

'The agreed drop off is tomorrow, I needed somewhere to keep her,' Jason sounded nervous and with good reason. Erik's mind was teetering on the thin wire between livid and pity, it was a bizarre blend of emotion and his discomfort only intensified when he looked at Jason.

'Did they give you an address?' Erik asked, almost through gritted teeth. He was beginning to regret not killing them all when he had the chance, if he had, then at least Christine would still be there, at least she would be with him.

He shook the thoughts away and watched as Jason dug his hand into his pocket revealing a small, yellowing scrap of paper. He passed it to Erik, without a word, and stared at his own hands.

'Skinner street,' Erik read aloud.

Jason simply nodded his head. He looked defeated and Erik found himself becoming increasingly exasperated with the younger man.

'You lied about her being pregnant,' Jason stated, out of nowhere.

Erik didn't say anything, just stared at the crest fallen man before him.

'You're a good liar,'

'I'm an excellent liar,' Erik corrected. 'But some might argue that it isn't one of my better qualities,'

Jason sighed.

'Pull yourself together,' Erik demanded, glaring at him. Jason glanced up, his dark eyes brimming with sorrow as his chest heaved with yet another tedious sigh.

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I'm worried for my family,'

Erik managed to refrain from rolling his eyes, feeling that if Jason was so worried then perhaps, instead of letting self pity manifest, he might actually do something about it. In his experience, the more a person dwelled on something, the worse the melancholy became.

Jason looked up at him, 'Face to face with the Phantom of the Opera,' he shook his head. 'I almost didn't believe it, when it crossed my mind I almost dismissed it… but I'm right, aren't I?'

Erik shrugged his shoulders, the moniker not one he was particularly proud of anymore. 'You said you were sure earlier, why ask?'

'You were brutal, at the house,' Jason said, babbling on as if Erik cared about anything he had to say. 'I admired your story, in a way, how you evaded capture, extorted money with such _ease_… how you could kill with no remorse,'

Erik stared at him, verging on incensed, yet somehow controlling it. 'Do you think this is a good time to have this conversation?'

'Yes,' Jason replied with sudden steel. 'If I'm going to trust you, we should air this now,'

'We don't really have time,' Erik said and then sighed. 'But if you insist, then you're absolutely right, I am the one they call the Phantom… but that was a long time ago,'

Jason laughed. 'Barely a few years since you were last spotted in Paris, and a little over a year since you worked your last job for an underworld leader,'

'It seems an eternity,' Erik said softly.

'I have killed people, myself, you know?' Jason said, as if it actually mattered.

Erik shrugged, it didn't concern him, made not one jot of difference.

'Killed people, where necessary, but I am not really a killer,' Jason explained. 'But you are different,'

'How do you know that those people I have killed I have not killed out of necessity?' Erik asked him.

'I saw you kill the guard, remember?'

Another shrug, 'It was necessary,'

'I didn't think so,'

'Then the notion of necessity is rather too subjective for us to debate here and now. Your opinion doesn't matter to me and mine should not matter to you either,' Erik said. 'We have more important things to do, if you still want my help that is. I'm becoming tempted to see how you cope on your own… We have an agreement though,' he fixed his eyes on Jason. 'A _gentleman's_ agreement and so we need to prepare,'

'Fine,' Jason said. 'Then what is your plan?'

'The plan is to catch them unawares, as is always my plan,' Erik replied. 'As for how we go about that, well, perhaps you should have at least some input into your son's rescue. We know where he is likely to be, don't we?'

Jason nodded.

'And we know that they are expecting you to deliver Christine to them tomorrow,' Erik continued.

'Yes,'

'Did you specify a time?'

'No,' Jason replied. 'No time,'

'Then I think the sensible approach would be to tackle this tonight,'

'I agree' Jason said, 'But I still think they will be suspecting something, they don't trust me,'

'I should certainly hope so,' Erik said. 'I would be and I am sure you would be, too. So perhaps very early in the morning is best… three or four in the morning, while it is still dark,'

'Hmm,' Jason replied. 'And even if they are expecting something, the guards will undoubtedly be tired,'

'The dark and the hour will be our weapon in this,'

'So we get there for approximately three,' Jason said.

Erik shook his head. 'I need to go before then, I need to see what we're dealing with. How big the house is, how many entrances and exits,'

'I don't think either of us should go there alone,' Jason said.

For once, Erik completely agreed.

'Perhaps neither of us should do it… I know a boy who would be willing to get a good look for a few coins,' Erik suggested, thinking of the stable-hand at the inn, his eagerness to help in exchange for money.

Jason gave a sharp nod of his head. 'Once we know what's there, we can have some idea of how we will seize the opportunity,'

* * *

Christine sat in the back of the cart in far more comfort than when she had arrived in it. Peter, her guard, was being helpful, almost thoughtful but this didn't make any difference to her. The road was bumpy and threw her from side to side, but with her hands free she could stop herself from sliding around. She propped herself up and stared at Anne, it was all that she could do to keep her mind from Erik.

Anne sat in silence and Christine was fascinated by the woman's peculiar reaction to leaving her husband. It wasn't as though she seemed pleased that her husband was staying behind but she certainly wasn't any more upset by the fact. Perhaps the truth was that all of her thoughts were occupied by her children. Still, it seemed strange.

'They will be fine,' Christine said to her, although she wasn't totally sure that she believed it herself.

Anne blinked, eye's like a frightened rabbit's.

'Jason will be fine, they will find your son,'

'Jason is a fool,' she said as tears spilled from her eyes. 'A damned fool,'

'I'm sure he didn't do this on purpose,' Christine said, surprised not only that Anne was so critical of her husband but that she herself felt compelled to defend him.

Anne glared at her. 'We've made good money, doing what he has been doing for most of his life,'

Anne fell silent but Christine said nothing, waited for Anne to continue because it was clear that there was more she wanted to say, more that _needed_ to say.

'Not all of what he made his money from was completely legal,' Anne blurted out. 'But I accepted it, you do, don't you? It's something you do… when you have a family to look after, when you have a future to save for,'

She looked at Christine, her eyes imploring her for answers, begging for her agreement, her absolution. Years ago Christine would not have agreed, but things were so different for her now that what was once black and white was now a murky grey. Nothing seemed quite so straightforward anymore.

'We saved money,' Anne continued. 'And then things changed and I started to worry. It should never have affected our family. Never… _never_,' she shook her head, rubbed her eyes hard with her knuckles, almost as if she actually wanted it to hurt. 'I told him wanted him to stop and then this job came up, one that would mean he didn't have to do it again. I agreed he should do it,'

Christine assumed that the job she was referring to was her own capture.

'What does that make me?' she asked. Blinked another tear away. 'And then… he changed his mind. One night he came home and told me he had realised that it was just too dangerous. The job,'

'Finding me?' Christine asked.

Anne nodded solemnly. 'I think he told them, the people hiring him, that it was too much. That the man… the one with the mask…'

'Erik,'

'Yes,' she nodded. 'Jason told them that he was too much of a risk,'

'They didn't like that?' Christine asked, knowing it was stupid question… she already knew the answer.

Shaking her head she said, 'They took my son. Just showed up, one night, a group of them… and took him away.'

'Why didn't they come for me themselves?' Christine asked.

'Jason said it was because there was too much exposure to them,' Anne replied. 'And they aren't as good as he is anyway, he found you didn't he?'

Christine said nothing.

'He didn't want to,' she said. 'You must believe that. Jason is a strong man, tough, but he is terrified of your Erik,'

Christine raised her eyebrows, 'And that is the only reason he did not want to do the job?'

Anne looked hurt by the comment but ploughed on anyway. 'And any man that Jason is afraid of is most certainly a man to be feared...' Anne stared at her curiously. 'And yet you spend your time with him, feel no fear of him,' she shook her head.

'I used to fear him,' Christine conceded.

'He is vicious,' Anne spat, her anger now centred at Erik rather than her own husband.

Christine wanted to defend him but she knew that it was the truth. Indeed, Erik could be vicious, he could be violent and hot tempered, angry and forceful… _and yet…_

'He will kill Jason,' Anne said nearly frantically. 'He told his friend to kill my daughter,'

Christine stared at her in disbelief. 'You're hysterical. He won't kill Jason and we're on our way to get your daughter. Don't blame Erik for your husband's failings, he might very well be vicious but at least he is competent,'

The words were out before she could think about what she was saying and she immediately regretted them. Anne's face was a picture of pure astonishment, her jaw hung and she stared at Christine with shock etched on her face.

'We shouldn't argue with each other,' Christine said, more hastily than she would have liked. 'Paris is a long way and we are stuck with each other,'

Anne frowned. 'How can you defend him?'

Christine felt anger in the pit of her stomach, a deep anger she had never felt before. She urged it back to where it came from and said, calmly, 'You defend your husband,'

'That'd different,' Anne said. 'He is my husband, he has provided for me,'

'And yet look what has happened,' Christine snapped. 'Your husband, who provides for you, has endangered your life, lost your son and almost cost your daughter her life. Yes, he's perfect, I can see why you would want to defend him. Such a valiant man, a _valiant_ husband,'

'What of Erik then?' Anne asked, anger in her eyes. 'You, too, were taken,'

'I am safe now,' Christine said, her confidence in that sentiment not quite all it should be, but still she continued. 'But your son is not,'

Anne's eyes were cold with rage but she contained herself, something in Christine's own expression must have told her to suppress whatever was inside her. After the horrendous things that Christine had been through, she felt stronger and tougher than ever before, Anne could throw nothing at her that she could not handle. She was convinced of that

'You two belong together,' Anne said, eyes still fixed on Christine's face.

Christine's heart thumped and Erik's face entered her mind, clear and sharp, an image that would forever remain in her memory, if not her life.

Anne shook her head in what seemed to be disapproval. 'You deserve each other,'

Christine smiled sadly. 'No, we don't,' she said, heart heavy. 'I have done nothing at all to deserve him,'


	29. Chapter 29

A/N: I have finished writing this now and it is 34 chapters long. I am hoping to post all of the chapters over the next two weeks... I know this has dragged but it's been a tough years/ 18 months and I nearly gave up altogether. Still, I finished it and, bizarrely, am pretty happy with how it turned out. I have just written either a one shot or the prologue to another story- although am debating whether it is worth posting. 

I am about to start replying to reviews, anyone I don't get around to today- thank you. Any anonymous reviewers - thank you. Those simply reading- thank you.

As always, if you don't like it- don't read it!

**Chapter 29**

Nadir had not looked particularly shocked to see them. When they arrived he was sitting in the living area playing cards with a young blonde girl, who neither looked traumatised nor worse off for her experiences that day. When Anne had walked in, expecting the girl to leap, relieved, into her arms, she was surprised to find her quite happily chatting away to the Persian.

Anne had stared at the scene but Christine was not surprised, Nadir seemed a much softer soul than Erik… whether she trusted him or not.

'Would you have done it?' Anne had asked. Nadir's dark eyes had peered up from over the top of his cards. He had answered by simply shrugging his shoulders.

The truce between the group was as uneasy as it was necessary. None of them looked pleased to be travelling together but no-one could argue that they were safer this way. Whatever was going on, there was certainly safety in numbers. It wasn't a long wait before they started travelling. Anne had sorted out piles of blankets, pillows and some fresh clothing. They had gathered food, as much as possible, and bundled it into the back of a small wooden cart.

Peter's horses pulled the carriage and Nadir's horse pulled the small cart. Also in Nadir's cargo was some hay and straw and some containers filled with water. Christine did not relish the prospect of being out in the cold again, in the carriage she allowed her mind to drift back to the house- to Erik's home- and think of the nights she had spent there in the warmth of the fire and in his company.

There was so much she did not understand about him, a lot that he kept hidden and even more that was on show but made no sense at all. It was astonishing, to her, how gentle he was, how soft his touch was, how thoughtful he could be and yet his voice could be sharp, his eyes cold, he was a killer, a fighter...In fact, Erik was just one cruel contradiction after another.

How she truly felt about him, she did not know but as she had spent time with him it had started to become clearer to her.

She glanced out of the small window at the English countryside and considered just how little she was going to miss it. For a while England had brought her peace, her short time as Raoul's wife had been mostly blissful and for as long she lived she would remember how they had loved each other, entirely and innocently. He had been her world for that short time but she had needed nothing more, she was quite content to live her days in his companionship and his companionship alone.

England had also shown her it's hatred, it's cold nights and it's sometimes even colder people. She had known nothing but terror for many months and it was Erik, of all people, who showed her a kindness she had forgotten existing. Strangely, it was as if he had brought her back to life when once she feared that he could have ended it.

They stopped at an inn to rest the horses and get drinks. Christine waited in the carriage while the others went inside, although Nadir insisted on staying with her. They sat in an uncomfortable silence for several minutes, Nadir's eyes on her face the whole time, until he finally said, 'He loved you,'

Christine blinked.

'Erik,' Nadir said, as if it needed clarification. 'He always loved you. As far as I'm aware, he still does,'

She didn't really know what to say, she hadn't expected Nadir to speak to her so openly or even at all, if the truth were known.

'You don't have to sit in here with me,' Christine said, 'I'll be fine,'

Nadir raised his eyebrows. 'I can't leave you alone,'

'Of course you can,' Christine insisted. 'I won't go anywhere.'

Nadir shook his head, looking away from her. 'And still, you don't understand,'

She stared at him, felt angry that he was so assuming.

'I can't leave you alone,' Nadir said, eyes turning back on her, dark with fire. 'How many times does Erik need to lay his life on the line for you before you can understand that he would do anything for you? _Anything_. I am his friend, perhaps his only remaining friend, and this means that when he sends you to me he is entrusting the most precious thing in his life to his only friend. Do you understand why I can't leave you on your own? Why I, now, can never let anything happen to you?'

Christine felt her throat constrict and her eyes prick with hot tears, she managed to nod her head and thoughts of Erik flooded her mind. She could see him as clearly as if he was standing in front of her. Did it matter to her that Erik loved her still?

Nadir sat back but his eyes were still on her face. 'I know that you don't trust me,'

Christine shook her head, too scared that words would fail her should she try to speak.

'And I don't particularly like you,' Nadir stated with a shrug of his shoulders. 'But that won't make a difference here. Erik… he is unique, you see and he is a unique friend. He never does anything by halves, he is an all or nothing man… he is your friend wholly or he is not at all, he loves you completely or he hates you,'

She nodded, not knowing what else to do.

'If something happened to you, it would kill him,' Nadir continued. 'It is not only your life he has saved, Christine, he has saved mine before. I owe him much more than you can imagine. And because of that, I will protect you.' he shrugged, 'And so, I can't leave you alone,'

He opened his mouth to say more but the carriage door opened and Peter handed a warm beer in to Nadir as he began to swig at his own. Nadir's drink lasted no more than a few seconds and when Anne arrived with the mulled wine, she and Christine drank that quickly enough too. Young Mary drank hot tea, the only thing available that was suitable for her to drink.

Christine felt slightly lightheaded as they moved off but she was alert enough to feel the tense atmosphere between herself and Anne. She knew that they would not be friends and settled that although the journey would feel long, she would prefer not to befriend the shrew anyway.

Darkness had closed in as they had waited at the inn and so they travelled in darkness, a time that always brought Erik to mind. She settled under her blanket, pulling it up over her shoulders to keep her warm, and closed her eyes. Instead of fighting him away, she let Erik enter her mind and stay there, all night, in her dreams.

* * *

Erik patted his pocket, ensuring the document was still safely tucked away inside, and then turned his attention back to Brian, the young stable hand from the inn. He had just returned from completing his task and was filling Jason in with the details. Although he knew he should be paying attention, Erik's mind kept drifting to Christine. There was no way that he could know for sure, but he could hope, that Christine was on her way to safety with Nadir at her side. He knew that the Persian would put his personal feelings towards her aside to help him and one day he hoped he would see him again, to tell him how grateful he was.

'What do you think Erik?' Jason asked, snapping him out of his daydream.

Despite not fully listening, Erik had the ability to catch enough of what was being said that his brain could process the conversation. He looked at the boy, Billy, and handed him a small bag of coins. 'Be on your way and tell no-one about this,'

Billy turned and Erik gripped his small, bony shoulder, 'Do you understand me?' he asked coolly.

Billy's small body stiffened and he nodded his head, as soon as Erik released him he went off like a bullet, zipping through the alleyway and out of sight. Erik turned back to Jason who was staring at him in surprise. 'You don't care who you frighten, do you?'

Somehow, Erik bit back a sharp response and turned his face towards the moon. It was high and glowing brightly in the dark navy of the night sky, illuminating the ground as if it were day. 'What do I think?' Erik asked, leaning against the wall of the inn. He felt ridiculously melancholy and willed himself to snap out of it. So much had happened over the last year that even his organised mind struggled to find any order in it.

'Yes,' Jason's gruff voice rolled into the night air. 'What do you think?'

'Two guards, one front and one rear,' Erik repeated what the boy had said, wondering how he taken anything in at all. 'Windows on each side and front… a door on the east, one at the front, one at the back. It seems almost too good to be true,'

Jason stared at him, uncertainty flickering in his dark eyes.

'The boy is wrong,'

'About what?' Jason asked, not questioning Erik's judgement, just the situation.

'The guards,'

'There are more?'

Erik took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh, trying to picture the house in his head. Lots of windows, three doors… yet only two guards?

'Yes, there are more,' he replied, certain of it.

The younger man seemed to turn it over in his mind. 'How many do you think?

'At least one,'

'By the side door?'

Erik shook his head, 'In one of the windows, whichever has the best view of most likely area for attack,'

'A sharpshooter, perhaps?'

The night was cool but the wind bearable and at least it was dry. When Erik turned to look back at Jason, he saw that the younger man's face was creased with concern.

'I don't like the idea of a sniper,' Jason said.

'That makes two of us,'

'Ha,' Jason said. 'Don't tell me there is actually something you are afraid of,'

'There is much I am afraid of,' Erik said. 'Sharp shooters aren't one of those things though… that doesn't mean to say I am not wary of it,'

Jason's skin was pale as he, too, stared up at the silver moon. 'I just want my son back,'

Of course, Erik really cared nothing for the man's son, he only wanted to find those responsible for the perusal of Christine and put an end to it once and for all. 'We will still go tonight, we have little choice in the matter,'

The other man shook his head.

'You look a liability,' Erik said.

'I'm not,'

'You look tired,'

'I'm fine,'

Erik shrugged. 'Just so that we're clear, if you put me in any danger you will be dead before me… one way or another,'

In the dark of the night Jason's eyes turned on him and he stared for a long moment at Erik. Finally, he nodded. 'I know,'

They both stood in the tranquil night quiet, listening the faint sound of branches swaying gently in the soft breeze. Erik could think of a few other places he would rather be, most prominent in his mind; sitting opposite Christine in front of his log fire, just watching the reflection of the flames shimmer along her cheekbones. The memory of that feeling of utter peace flittered across his psyche, a peace so profound, a peace he had never known before and would probably never know again. A momentary stab of resentment dug at him when he looked over at Jason, even though he knew it was all a dream. Nothing that wonderful ever lasted, he knew that better than anyone else.

'We shall take the horses as close as we can, for escape should something go wrong,' Erik said into the night. 'We won't be able to ride right up, the guards will hear us and the sharpshooter may spot us. We will do the last section on foot. The boy said the best approach is the side furthest from the road and although I would not usually trust his judgement he could be right,'

Jason was listening carefully, as if making notes in his mind. He nodded for Erik to resume with the plan.

'We will judge from a distance whether we still think he is right when we get there,' Erik continued. 'From there, we will hopefully be able to ascertain the most likely window for the sniper,'

The younger man sighed deeply. 'I can't remember the last time I had so much fun,'

Erik fought the urge to roll his eyes and said, 'We need to go now, otherwise it will be light before we arrive and that won't do us any good,'

Without a word Jason turned and began to untie the horse's reins from the fence post. They snorted at him in something akin to disgust and for the first time in days Erik managed a smile. Although he could not stand the presence of most humans, he enjoyed the company of animals. They had an uncanny ability to read danger and did not care how the responded to people. He liked that. It reminded him of himself.


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: Thank you for all of the reviews, I'm pretty sure I got around to replying to the last batch! If I missed you out, I'm sorry!**

**_Onwards..._**

**_Chapter 30_**

They travelled through the night without stopping again. Christine's feet felt cold but her upper body was snug, wrapped up tight in blankets and pressed against Anne and her daughter. Despite their differences they knew that it was best to stay close for warmth and swallowed their pride for the good of their health. Besides, Mary knew nothing of what was going on and she was just a child, undeserving of what was happening to her.

Christine had no idea what time it was but she knew it must be very early morning. The sky showed no signs of dawn yet but the clear moon had moved across the sky. The same moon that shone for her shone for Erik. She wondered where he was and if he was safe.

Mary stirred to her right and rested her head on Christine's shoulder. Briefly, she felt the urge to stroke the child's hair, a child that was not hers and yet had somehow wound up in her story.

A pang of guilt touched her and she turned her face to the small window, stared out on the cloudless cobalt blue of the sky sprinkled with dazzling, white stars. It was so beautiful it was almost as if it was not real.

Her heart heaved as the carriage rocked over another ditch in the road and Anne shifted in her seat, grumbling in her sleepiness. Slowly, her eyes blinked open and she set them on Christine.

'You're awake,' Anne mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

'I can't sleep,'

'You should try not to think so much,' Anne said, as if it were so simple.

'Easier said than done,' Christine sighed.

Anne's gaze drifted to her daughter, whose breathing was slow and measured, the slumber of the innocent. 'When I first married Jason I slept fitfully,'

Christine said nothing.

'After Mary was born, I realised that the worry would only get worse and so at night, I learnt to set my concerns aside and sleep… that way I was worth more to her in the day,'

There was some logic in it, Christine supposed, but could not imagine how a person might go about filing their worries neatly at bedtime, to be picked up again in the morning.

'Your Erik keeps your mind occupied,' she persisted.

'He isn't mine,' Christine said.

Anne smiled. 'I think he is, and I think you care about him more than you would tell me but he is trouble,'

A bubble of anger crept up from her stomach but she swallowed it down.

'You seem unsure of how to deal with the worry,' Anne continued, undeterred by the scowl that Christine shot her. 'You have not been together long,'

'We are not together,' Christine insisted and then, inexplicably, felt the need to clarify. 'I've known him for years, I was married this time last year to a wonderful man and now I am a widow. If it wasn't for Erik, I would be dead… he has saved me more than once. Nadir will tell you that,'

Anne stared at her for a moment. 'He would do anything for you,'

Christine turned away.

'It must be nice,' Anne said. 'To have a man who would do anything for you, _sacrifice_ for you,'

'You sound bitter,' Christine said, unable to stop herself.

Instead of biting back, Anne sighed, 'I suppose I am, a bit,' she began to play with one of the tassels at the end of the blanket. 'Jason is kind and strong but as you have seen, he would not sacrifice anything for me,'

Unsure of what to say, Christine opted to say nothing at all. She stared at Anne and for the first time saw the lines around her eyes, the deep signs of worry along her forehead, something so difficult to hide it was almost like _wearing_ your emotions. For a moment, Christine wondered what she now looked like after the last year of ups and downs. She could not remember the last time she had looked in a mirror and the thought disturbed her, not because she was bothered that she had not looked in a mirror but because of the fact that she was not.

It no longer mattered to her how she looked, not really. Her hair was not so important, her lips felt chapped as she licked them and she was sure that her once youthful face was showing signs of weathering. She had never been particularly vain but had always wanted to look her best. Now, she did not care that her shoes were dirty and scuffed, that her dress looked old and torn. She only cared that she was safe… that _Erik_ was safe.

Her heart seemed to push against her chest.

Was Erik safe?

'Do you think they will find him?' Anne asked, breaking the silence.

'Your son?'

Anne nodded, a look of sombre discontent crossed her face.

'I'm sure they will,' she had no doubt.

'And will your Erik bring them both back to me safely?'

Christine opened her mouth to answer the question but found that she could not, in good conscience, answer yes. Erik had been angered, hurt and almost killed. Christine knew him well enough to know that those feelings would not diminish easily and so she chose not to answer the question.

She patted Anne's hand and smiled. 'Who knows what will happen out there? We can do nothing here but look after ourselves and hope for their safety,'

For a moment, Anne sat mute, staring into space.

Eventually, she turned her eyes back on Christine and said, 'That's not really an answer,'

Christine knew.

* * *

The small house had been ridiculously easy to find and that in itself troubled Erik. He and Jason lay on their stomachs in a small, overgrown patch of grass, around two hundred yards from the house. It was bathed in nothing but moonlight, no lanterns burned in the yard and no candles flickered in the windows. Jason and he had both taken a wide half circle around the property and met where they were now, after checking the perimeter.

There was a guard front and one at the rear of the building, as the boy had said and he was correct about the best approach, they were staring from that direction now.

'The sharp shooter?' Jason asked, his eyes scanning the building.

'Top window, facing us,'

Jason turned his head to look at Erik, half of his face remained in sinister shadow, the other lit grey by the moon, 'How can you know that?'

'There are many reasons,' Erik explained. 'The first, is that, that is where I would be if I were looking out for attack. You would want to be able to see the easiest entry to the building,'

'The second?' Jason asked.

'I can see him,'

Jason blinked and looked back at the house, staring intently for a few minutes before turning back to Erik. 'You can _see_ him?'

Erik nodded.

'From here?'

Again, he nodded.

'How can you possibly see him from here, the house is pitch black and we are quite some distance away?'

'My eyesight is excellent,'

Jason opened his mouth to speak but must have thought better of it because he simply snapped his jaw closed and diverted his gaze back towards the house. 'Are there other reasons you're so sure?'

'Yes,'

'Tell me,'

Erik almost laughed. 'Something tells me that you don't trust my eyesight,'

Jason glanced sideways but did not turn his head, 'Hmm,'

'The window is open,'

Jason looked again, 'You're right,'

'It is the _only_ window that is open,'

Jason nodded.

'It is a cold night, yes?' Erik prompted.

'Indeed,'

'So, what good reason could there be for leaving a window open when it is so cold? Especially when you consider that all of the other windows are closed,' Erik said. 'You wouldn't want to shoot through a closed window, would you?'

Jason stared at the building.

'Do you think he has spotted us?'

'He has not seen us,' Erik answered. 'But he will if we try to get to the building from this direction,'

'The other way means the guard will see us,'

'He won't see me,' Erik said. 'I'll go around the front and you circle to the back,' he began to move, low and quiet. 'I'll make a commotion, ensure the guard from your side comes my way. When he does, enter from the back. I will meet you inside,'

'Are you joking with me?' Jason asked, as Erik moved further away.

'Do I look like I'm joking?' Erik asked, amazed at the question.

'We can't do that!' Jason gasped. 'We'll be killed,'

Erik's eyes fixed onto him. 'Worry about yourself, it must be done this way,'

Jason stared for a long moment before sighing and turning his back. 'What if they kill my son because of the fuss?'

Erik shrugged his shoulders. 'It is a risk, but they will certainly kill him if we don't do this tonight,'

Erik turned his back and began to walk around the building.

* * *

Jason had spent many years hunting people, catching them out, spotting their lies and capturing them. On the odd occasion things became terse and violence was necessary but truth told, Jason avoided this at most costs. He had no doubt that tonight would descend into chaos but he also had no doubt that Erik was right; there was no other way now.

His heart jerked at the thought of his son being hurt or killed during this, he had involved himself in something above him, something worse than he had ever been involved in before. The document in Erik's pocket held answers but they were answers that Jason neither needed nor wanted. All he wanted was his son, that was it. If his son survived, that was all that really mattered and Jason would have done something right for once.

He crouched down behind a tree with a good view of both the house and the guard. He was almost within touched distance of the gate and he was afraid that the guard might hear his ragged breathing. Throughout all of his experiences he had never been in a situation as tenuous and dangerous as this and as a result, he was nervous, he was sweating and his breathing was laboured. He did everything he could to remain calm.

It was not long before he heard a small but noticeable bump over the far side of the house. Jason took the moment to glance around the tree just in time to see the guard from his side desert his post and dashed to the front of his house. Jason slipped the dagger from his belt and vaulted the gate, feet thumping on the ground as he sprinted to the rear entrance of the house. When he got there he pressed his back to the wall and quietly tested the handle. It opened and he slid inside to darkness.

He clicked the door closed behind him and stood motionless, listening to the stillness of the room. There was no sound from anywhere now. Nothing inside the house and nothing at the front. Jason slipped through a door to his left and entered another tomb of blackness, curtains were drawn across a window at the far side and Jason snuck quietly across to it. He glanced out onto the back lawn and saw that the guard had not returned.

Jason assumed he probably wouldn't.

He turned and began to creep back towards the door but as he did a bright glow appeared, a lamp, and he was frozen in its light. The man behind it scowled, eyes orange in the flame of the lantern, he opened his mouth to call for the assistance of his comrades but as he did the words died in a horrifying gurgle. Panicked and struggling for air, the man dropped the lantern to the ground and a burst of flames skittered across the floor, catching on the rug and setting it alight. Jason watched as the man slumped to the floor revealing a black shadow behind him, holding a rope.

The shadow looked up and its white mask burned red from the flames.

'You're not good at this,' Erik said, flatly.

Jason swallowed, looking from Erik to the man now dead on the floor. 'Was that necessary?'

'Next time, I will leave you to it then,' Erik answered, in that same level tone that Jason was slowly becoming accustomed to.

'No, you're right,'

'Come this way, before the room goes up completely,' Erik instructed.

Jason was not about to argue as the flames began to spread more quickly across the run and lick at the legs of the table. As he approached the door, Erik grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the dark hallway. He then dragged the body out of sight.

'Fire!' Erik yelled, loudly and clearly. 'Fire!'

He ducked down and waited.

A few moments later, chaos erupted as several men darted in with buckets of water, attempting to put out the flames. Even just by what he saw, Jason knew that they were too late. The fire had worked it's way up the table legs and around the edge of the skirting and had now caught on the curtains, which were blazing ferociously.

Erik pressed his finger to his own lips and tilted his head, silently instructing Jason to follow him through into the second hallway. Quietly they slid unnoticed behind the men and out of their sight. Erik checked the room to his right and then his left. No one there. The stairs were straight ahead and there was one final door to the right of them.

'He is in there,' Erik said simply.

To his own amazement, Jason did not doubt this, no longer doubted much of what this man said to him.

'What about the sniper?' Jason asked. 'Is he still here?'

Erik nodded to the base of the stairs. A rifle was propped against the banister. The sniper was fire fighting.

'I'll wait here,' Erik said. 'Get the boy and come back. Quickly,'

Jason was content to do as he was told.

* * *

A_/N: The first of only two chapters containing detail not seen from either Erik or Christine's perspective... necessary, I thought._


	31. Chapter 31

_**A/N: Thank you for the great reviews, as usual. Really spurring me on to get this whole thing posted!!**_

_**And then there were only three… **_

_**Chapter 31**_

When Jason returned he had the boy slung over his shoulder and his dagger in his right hand. Erik nodded and moved towards the front exit. The men were still scrambling in and out of the kitchen with pales of stored water, trying to win a losing battle. By now, Erik could feel the heat throughout the building and he knew that before long the entire house would be ablaze.

They literally sauntered through the front door, closing it behind them and stepping over the limp, lifeless bodies of the two guards he had left there. Jason glanced in his direction but said nothing as they began to push into the overgrowth to the front of the building. When the distance became such that he felt they were clear he stopped walking and turned around.

The house was a bright glow on the horizon, completely engulfed.

'Thank you,'

Erik turned and looked at his companion, whose eyes were fixed on his face, dark and earnest in the mounting dawn. He did not respond, was really quite unsure of what he was expected to say, so he walked on and allowed Jason to follow. The churning feeling began again in the pit of his stomach and was quickly followed by vivid images of Christine's beautiful face appearing in his mind. However much he tried to shake her, the feeling of her, the sound of her, the smell of her… no matter how hard he pushed against her, she drew back to him with such consummate ease he actually wondered if he had finally lost _all_ of his mind.

He could her Jason's footsteps behind him and feel the sun beginning to press light to his back, and yet Christine was paramount in his thoughts. _Christine_. Thinking of her had once again become so painful that for once he was glad of Jason's gruff voice interrupting his silent reflections.

'He is waking,'

Erik stopped walking and turned around. Over Jason's broad shoulder he could still just make out the flames in the distance.

'Father…' the boy's voice was hoarse and when Erik looked at his pale, drawn face, it became clear to him that the boy had been drugged in some way.

Jason did not put him down but kissed his forehead and said, 'You're safe now,'

The young boy's eyes were wide, dark and scared. His face and clothes were grubby, his cheek had small grazes on the left side but other than that he looked fairly unharmed. Erik actually felt glad of this. Jason pushed dirty blonde hair from the boy's face and stroked his cheek. 'You're safe Matthew, did they hurt you?'

Matthew stared at his father for a long moment and said, in a small voice, 'Where's mother?'

'We're going to her now,' Jason replied. Erik turned and began to walk again.

'Wait,' Jason said.

Erik did not stop. 'We're foolish to stand still,'

After a moment's hesitation Jason followed, gripping young Matthew close to his chest. If anything to boy looked less comforted than he did awkward, Erik asked, 'Why don't you make him walk?'

Jason s eyes set hard on him, 'He has been through an ordeal,'

Erik nearly let a laugh escape. 'He looks as though he is going through one right now,'

Father glanced down at son and sighed, 'Would you prefer to walk?'

The boy nodded quickly and Jason lowered him to his feet. He looked wobbly at first but eventually found his footing, then his stride, and moved ahead of his father to walk next to Erik.

Every so often Matthew would look up, eyes large and gooey brown.

'Mister,' he said.

Erik ignored him and continued to walk, knowing that the horses would soon be in sight and he could be rid of the boy and his father for good.

Apparently, Matthew was not content with being overlooked. 'Mister,' the boy repeated and then tugged at Erik's sleeve. Erik turned sharply and glared down at him. Jason reacted quickly, pulling Matthew back. 'Now, Matthew, be polite…' his voice was nervous. 'Mr…'

'Chevalier,' Erik responded.

Jason's eyebrows lifted, 'Er… Mr Chevalier, is concentrating and doesn't like to be disturbed,'

The boy looked up, confused. 'On what?'

'He's thinking about where we left the horses,'

Again, Matthew turned his eyes up to Erik. 'I only wanted to ask about your mask, Mr Chevalier,' his tongue got twisted around the French surname and it came out more like shoveller, still, at least he had tried.

Erik ignored the statement and looked over at Jason, 'The horses are over there,'

Jason glanced across and nodded.

'What happens now?' Jason asked.

'This is where we part company,' Erik answered as they drew closer to the two horses.

'I don't know where my wife is,'

'She will be on a boat to France by now, I suspect,'

'Where in France?' he asked.

'Paris,' Erik said, turning away 'You should go… she will be staying with Antoinette Giry.'

'I…'

'I'm feeling inclined to change my mind,'

'About what?'

'Letting you leave alive,' Erik said, feeling the all too familiar twitching of the muscles in his forearms, the tensing and clenching of his hands.

Jason's eyes widened. 'We had a deal,' he said, taking a step away from Erik.

Erik nodded. 'We had a deal about the women and we had a deal about your son,'

Jason blinked.

'As far as I'm concerned, you and I have no deal,' Erik hissed. 'We have unfinished business,'

Matthew's small frame was now hidden behind his father.

'You took her,' Erik said quietly, moving closer to Jason, seeing and smelling his fear. 'After what I told you, you still took her,'

Jason took a deep breath and lunged towards him, but Erik saw it coming and stepped aside, flicking Jason's foot with his and sending him spinning across the floor. The dagger fell from his hand, landing on the frost hardened earth with a clatter. Erik moved across and brushed the knife aside with his toe. 'That was _silly_,'

Jason looked up, squinting against the rising sun.

'I told you that you could leave,' Erik said.

The lump in Jason's throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, 'I didn't believe you,'

Erik smiled. 'Probably wise,'

'What about my son?' Jason asked, his eyes turning to the boy. Erik glanced over his shoulder and shrugged his shoulders. 'You really are everything they said you were,' he spat.

Jason fell silent and the morning chorus chirping around them was the only sound for miles. He let his head fall back to the ground and stared up at the sky, now blue with daytime. 'You _do_ love her,'

Erik reached down and grabbed the collar of Jason's jacket, lifting his top half one handed from the floor. He pulled so that their faces were inches apart, 'More than you will ever know,' he said, and dropped the other man back to the floor.

Jason seemed oddly buoyed by this revelation and said, with a confidence he had no right to feel, 'How could _you_ love anyone?'

Erik said nothing, instead he checked that the boy was still standing a safe distance from them and dug the noose from his pocket. Looking less arrogant and yet still defiant, Jason continued, 'Does she love you? Does she return your affection?'

Testing the ropes strength with a small twang, Erik stepped closer to Jason. 'Are you going to her?' Jason asked, now no longer so secure, now only vying for time. 'After you have murdered me. Are you going to go to her with my blood on your hands?'

Erik smiled at him, tilting his head to the side. 'You kidnapped and tied her up,' he said softly. 'You held a knife to her throat and threatened to kill her,'

Jason was staring at the rope between Erik's hands.

He leaned down, looked into Jason's eyes, 'Do you _really_ think that she would disapprove of me killing you?'

'She seems a woman who would disapprove of you killing _anyone_,'

Erik tensed, Christine's gentle, dark eyes came to mind. Her lips, her cheeks, her warm, soft hands. She looked at him with such disappointment, the disappointment he had seen on her face many times, in his mind.

'Stand,' Erik demanded.

Jason did as he was told, finally looking resolved to his fate. 'Turn around,' Erik said. Again, Jason complied without a word.

Erik turned to the boy. 'Come here,'

For a moment it seemed that Matthew might ignore him, but after a brief hesitation the boy edged closer. 'Stand next to your father,'

Matthew complied. Erik tore strips of fabric from one of the dresses left in his knapsack and tied one around Jason's eyes, and then one around Matthews.

'Can't even look at us,' Jason sniped.

Erik ignored him and used string to tie Jason's hands behind his back.

He left Matthews free.

It was better this way.

* * *

That night Erik stayed at Nadir's home, with a warm fire and the delights of his friend's liquor cabinet. The Persian only ever purchased the most powerful substances, a fact of which Erik was becoming increasingly glad, and before long he was quite warm and quite comfortable, dropping into a pleasant doze.

When he woke it was light again and he felt groggy but at least awake. His jacket smelled of smoke from the fire at the house and so he resolved to bathe before the fire and then rest for a few hours. In all of his life he had never felt so weary, had, in fact, never felt weary at all. The sensation was unfamiliar and unpleasant but he succumbed to it anyway, not knowing how to beat it.

The bath was quite satisfying and he found fresh clothes in the room at the front of the house. They fit fine and Erik immediately knew that Nadir had procured them with Erik in mind. He allowed himself a brief moment to wonder how far into France his friend now was, however, try as he might, Christine entered his thoughts at will.

He shook his head and glanced over at his dirty jacket. For a moment he was torn between two options, one far more appealing that the other. Option one was that he spent the day resting and then travelled to the coast over night, catching the first available boat to France. _To Christine._

The thought filled him with both excitement and trepidation. Now she no longer needed him, not hidden with the Giry's, would she even want his company at all? He shook his head once more. _No_.

His second option was to find those that had hurt her, pursued her and made her cry and to make them pay. To discover what was behind all of the nonsense and the chasing, the hunting and killing.

The two options swirled in his mind and the more he thought of option one, the more he recognised the impossibility of that as his next move. Christine had clung to him in her desperation, had allowed him to love her and had even shown him some affection in return, but in desperation most people do things that they later regret.

And he knew that he would always be a regret for her, in one way or another.

The whole journey with her had been both glorious and tragic but throughout he had known that he would eventually need to let her go. No life with him would ever be enough, ever be right for her, and so his decision was made.

Even if the thought of never seeing her again sent chills through him, made his blood run cold with an agony he never wanted to experience again, he knew that letting her go was right. Losing her the first time was pain itself, had left the most constant of aches in his soul, but this time it was even more excruciating than the last. She had loved him, if only for one night, she had needed him, trusted him, _befriended_ him and now he was once again without her… and he knew, deep down he knew, he would always be without her.


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: The reviews were great for the last chapter, thank you. Only two more after this.**

**Chapter 32**

Sunlight burst over the horizon, casting hazy brown shadows across Paris as Christine stared out from the porch of the Giry household. She no longer slept and rarely had the energy to eat, worry consumed her every waking moment. Worry for Erik, worry for her future… worry that coming to Paris had brought danger to Antoinette Giry's door.

Constant, _unrelenting_ worry.

She heard movement behind her but had become adept at recognising the different sounds of people's footsteps. Madame Giry's long fingers gripped her shoulder and squeezed gently, before the older woman settled in the second chair on the porch.

Christine's eyes set onto her old ballet mistress and she managed a forced smile in her direction. 'It has been five days since we left England,' she said quietly.

'It is not such a long time,' Madame Giry said, with equal softness.

'It feels like an eternity,' Christine sighed, looking away as tears threatened, not for the first time that morning.

'Are you ready to tell me what happened?'

Christine glanced up. 'You know most of it, Madame,'

'I do not think I know the important parts,' the older woman said gently. 'The parts that keep you awake these nights, that bring tears to your eyes,'

A soft breeze blew a feather onto Christine's lap as she slumped into the chair, the toll of the past months catching her out once again and knocking her, almost, off balance. 'You know that Philippe is dead, you know that Raoul is gone… you know…'

'Yes, I sent Raoul to Erik myself,'

'Erik protected me, hid me… saved my life more times than I can remember,' Christine said, remembering. 'That is all you need to know,'

Madame Giry leaned back in her seat. 'Anne and her child, they are here because Erik is with the husband… Jason?'

Christine nodded.

'Is Jason still umm… with the living?'

Christine glanced up, not really sure how to answer. She sighed softly. 'I don't know,'

'Shall we perhaps look at this another way?' Madame Giry asked, her eyes keen and twinkling in the morning light. 'Is there any reason that Jason might not be still alive?'

Christine thought of the night she had spent with Erik, curled up in his arms in front of the open fire, she thought of her kidnapping and she could almost feel the cold of Jason's dagger at her throat. She turned to Madame Giry and said, 'Jason kidnapped me,'

Antoinette Giry's eyebrows rose only slightly and she smiled thinly. 'Then there is every chance that he is dead, is there not?'

'Yes,'

'Does Anne know this?'

'Anne has had the pleasure of Erik's company,' was all Christine said.

'Then she is aware of what he might be capable of,' Madame Giry said. It was not a question.

'He isn't the same,'

Madame Giry chuckled slightly. 'A leopard does not change its spots, Christine,'

'Erik is not a leopard,' Christine said. 'He is … he is a man.'

'There was one time you might have called him a monster,'

Christine looked away, no longer able to meet the older woman's eyes, 'Perhaps that was not me speaking,'

She heard Madame Giry sigh, 'Perhaps you are right,'

'He was never given the chance,' Christine said, but she was speaking more to herself than she was to the ballet mistress.

Madame Giry responded, all the same, 'He could be a sweet boy, when we were young,'

Christine turned and looked at her, noticing for the first time how she had aged so quickly. The years had not been kind to Madame Giry's face but her eyes were as keen and alert as they had always been.

'Why have you turned your back on him, Madame?' Christine asked. It was not an accusation, her tone was soft, she was simply curious. Christine could not help but wonder why this woman, with so much affection for Erik, could simply shun him in the way she had.

'I have never turned my back on him,' Madame Giry replied.

'You ignore his letters,'

The older woman smiled ruefully. 'Erik's letters… yes, I have not replied to them., although I do keep them. _All_ of them. And they are well read, he writes so eloquently,' A sigh. 'I suppose I am protecting myself,'

'From what?'

'From the hurt that he causes,' Madame Giry answered. 'And yet if he came here… for my help, I would never… non, I _could_ never turn him away,'

Christine nodded. 'He knows, I think,'

'He should,' Madame Giry laughed. 'By now, after all this time. He should know this,'

The clicking of horses hooves came and went in the quiet that now rested between the two odd friends. Christine felt a strange comfort in Madame Giry's presence and, though she did not know why, she knew that the ballet mistress felt the same thing. They sat there for a while, listening to the odd sound from the street in front of the house but mostly enjoying the gentle quiet of the morning.

Madame Giry broke the silence, 'Have I hurt him?'

Christine blinked. 'Erik?'

She nodded.

'Maybe,' Christine said, knowing that Madame Giry had, in fact, hurt him. Spending so much time with him had afforded her a real look into his life, into his soul, the way he thought and although she did not understand him she had learnt many things about him.

Things she felt like she should have known the first time around.

Things like the ease and affection he felt for animals, the fact that he could feel far more deeply than she had ever imagined, the esteem in which he held his true, yet few, friends and the love he had for her. The undying, unyielding, sacrificing love that she knew was there before but could never understand.

'It was never my intention to hurt him,' Madame Giry said as she stood and gestured for Christine to follow her. They walked back through the porch, into the kitchen where Meg stood, buttering croissants. 'I only wanted to protect my family,'

'He would never have hurt you, either,'

Madame Giry smiled as she lifted a pastry from the plate on the work surface. 'Ah, but yet he cannot help it,'

Meg glanced up and lifted her eyebrows. She must have known what the topic of conversation was because she smiled cynically and quickly excused herself, taking a croissant and her drink with her. Christine watched her tiny figure sway out of the room and sighed, If she had expected their friendship to be unchanged when she returned she had been very much mistaken. There was no hostility, of course, but it was clear to them both that they had taken different paths in their lives. Meg was still the young, giggly girl dancing and playing, carefree and unencumbered…

Christine could no longer be that person, the person she once was, the one she often remembered with such fondness.

She could no longer laugh at frivolity or feel so light of heart, no matter how much she wanted to. Meg did seem to understand and never questioned Christine's moods nor interrupt her quiet moments, but still, it had altered the dynamic of their friendship. They could not chat as they used to and confide in one another, or whisper about men. Life was not that simple anymore and the thought of that only made Christine feel just a little bit worse about everything.

Madame Giry sat at a stool, 'Meg does not like to hear us talk of _him_,'

'I can understand that,' Christine said, and meant it.

'It was difficult for her,' Madame Giry explained. 'Not as difficult as it was for you, child, of course, but difficult none the less,'

Christine nodded.

'She missed you, when you left,'

'I missed her,'

Madame Giry smiled, 'I have no doubt. Although, being innocent as she has always been, she blamed Erik for forcing you away,'

Christine laughed at the irony. 'If only it was Erik that had driven us to England. Perhaps things might have turned out differently,'

'It is hard for her to understand that Philippe could not accept your marriage to Raoul,' Madame Giry said. 'She still has the romantic notion that love conquers all,'

'Maybe it does,'

'And yet you married Raoul,'

Christine was taken aback. 'What do you mean?'

'Erik's love for you did not conquer all, it could not triumph over your affection for Raoul,' she answered. 'And Raoul's love was eventually undone by someone else's hate,'

Christine stared at the ballet mistress and could see in her eyes that this was not what she had meant at all, but knew that she would not get the truth from her now. 'It isn't such a bad thing to believe,'

'But it is not a good thing to rest your hopes upon it,'

Christine supposed that she was right but even so, she could not help believe that true love could indeed conquer all. In the past few months she had seen more love and sacrifice than she could ever have believed existed. She could still trust that love overcomes all obstacles, even if it was difficult, even in losing Raoul. He had died to protect her… if this was not love defeating everything, she was not sure what was. He had sacrificed for her, and although she no longer had him, his love would now live forever.

And Erik…

A loud knock at the front door snapped her from her thoughts and her eyes met Madame Giry's across the kitchen counter. Anne came running into the room, desperate to see who was at the door but afraid to open it. In the end, the two women followed their host into the hallway and to the front door.

Madame Giry glanced over her shoulder at them before reaching for the handle. Christine placed her hand over the ballet mistresses'. 'If it's bad news?'

The older woman shrugged. 'Then I will help you, no matter what,'

Christine nodded as the door began to creak open.

A young boy flew through it and flung himself into Anne's arms. She swirled him around, squeezed him tight, kissed his hair frantically and Christine immediately knew that this was her son. The boy sobbed into her neck, repeating the word '_mother'_ over and over again as she shushed and rocked him gently.

'There,' she said softly, gripping his small frame to her body. 'There, shh, it's all going to be fine. I'm here, its fine,'

As the boys cries slowly quieted, a stillness enveloped the room. Christine pulled her gaze away from mother and child to find that Madame Giry was watching her, eyes intense and concerned. The ballet mistress opened her mouth to speak as the door widened again. All three women glanced up simultaneously, as if synchronized, and stared at the tall shadow in the doorway.

Anne sighed with relief as Jason moved to her and wrapped his arms around his family. 'Where is Mary?' he asked, gently, kissing his wife's dark hair.

'Playing…' Anne said, swallowing. 'She's playing.' She shook her head as she moved back slightly to take in the sight of her husband, safe and well before her eyes. 'You're here,'

Jason nodded, and reached out to touch her cheek. 'But we need to go, as soon as possible,'

Anne frowned. 'Why?'

Her husband scanned the room, keen eyes assessing his company. Christine simply stood there when their eyes met, she did not flinch away and he did not avert his gaze in shame. She could feel Madame Giry at her side, still and yet somehow her presence was almost moving.

'I'm surprised to see you here so… _quickly_,' Christine said to him, without warmth.

Jason stepped towards her. 'You mean you're surprised to see me here alive,'

Madame Giry stirred at her side but Christine placed a hand on her arm. She was no longer the delicate child the ballet mistress had once known. 'Where is he?'

Jason glanced to his wife and son and then said, 'I killed him,'

It was so absurd that Christine actually laughed out loud, 'You expect me to believe that you killed him?'

Jason said nothing.

'Then why the rush?' Christine asked, eyes fixed on his face. 'Why not stay for lunch?'

Again, no answer.

'He is no more dead than you or I,' Christine said, closing the gap between them, feeling suddenly brave, suddenly furious at his lie. 'What I can't work out is why _he_ didn't kill _you_,'

Jason drew back slightly, surprised, no doubt, by the venom in her voice.

'Before you and your family leave,' she said. 'Where _is_ he?'

Jason paused, and then said, 'I don't know,'

Anne was staring at them. 'He is going to come for you, Jason?' Is that why we need to leave?'

He turned to his wife, gone was there confident man who mere moments before had confronted Christine, replaced by the defeated shell of a human. His shoulders slumped, 'I think he might,'

'Why did he let you leave?' Christine asked, unable to get her head around the fact that Erik had allowed him to live in the first place.

Jason shrugged. 'I don't know, but he did,'

'If he was going to kill you surely he would have done it there and then?' Anne questioned.

This time it was Jason's turn to laugh.

'Did he stay in England?' Christine asked.

Jason nodded. 'Anne, go and get Mary. Collect whatever belongings you have. The cab is waiting for us,'

This time Anne did not question him, she shuffled off, clinging her son to her body. When they were alone Christine said, 'He _will_ come for you,'

'I know that,' Jason snapped.

'And it will be no more than you deserve,' Christine spat back.

'I told him that you would not like it,'

'You don't know me,' Christine said.

'You would approve of him killing me?'

Christine shrugged her shoulders. 'I would neither approve nor disapprove. I'm indifferent to you, your life if meaningless to me,'


	33. Chapter 33

_A/N: This chapter is what I mean by unsatisfactory in terms of the document plot. I admit that originally I had planned the write the whole thing out… how Erik dealt with it but in the end I decided that that would be dragging things out. I always stressed that this would be more about Erik and Christine's relationship than anything else, so I hope most of you will not be too disappointed that I chose to end the document plot this way._

_Thank you to all the reviewers. I will answer reviews individually when this is over. _

**Chapter 33**

After Anne and her family left, days past and turned to weeks, those weeks became months… _and_ _endless_ _months_. Christine continued to stay with them and Nadir would drop in regularly to check on her welfare. He would say very little and stay less than an hour each time but, he would be there, once a week, rain or shine. Opinions of Nadir often varied vastly but say what you might about the Persian but he had always been a loyal friend.

His dependability was unwavering, even when those months became years. During this time Meg had moved on, found love, married and was trying now, to start her own family. Slowly, even Antoinette Giry had begun to lose hope. True though it was that Erik was the master of keeping the low profile and he was the best she knew at hide and seek, he could never forget about Christine.

As his oldest friend, she knew him much better than this.

One day, in the early spring, Christine had been sitting on the porch as she often did but this time when Antoinette had sat beside her the younger woman's sorrow was almost palpable. Christine had shown her perhaps the most haunted smile that the ballet mistress had ever seen and said, almost too quietly, 'Is he dead?'

It was rare, since those early days, that they talked of him. So rare, in fact, that Antoinette was taken aback. The porch had become the house's quiet place, the place where all of their deepest reflections seemed to happen. 'I don't know child,' she said, and she didn't, she had no idea and could offer no comfort.

'I won't stay much longer,' Christine had said, her voice almost detached from her. 'Here, I mean… I hoped he would come and let us know… tell us he was… that he was fine,'

Trying not to speak of Erik, trying not to dwell, Antoinette had said, 'You are more than welcome to stay here for as long as it pleases you,'

'I would rather think he is alive and cannot forgive me than think of him dead but it is becoming increasingly difficult to be optimistic,' Christine said.

It had been a long time since she had seen Christine look so melancholy. She may have felt it but she usually hid it well, for the sake of those around her and for her own sanity. Antoinette did not, however, begrudge the girl her moments of sorrow. She knew how it was to feel despair.

'I cannot impose any longer,'

'It is no imposition,' Antoinette had placed a hand on the younger woman's slender shoulder and squeezed. A gesture that both of them were comfortable with, a gesture that said _I am here_.

When summer arrived, and France burst into colour and sunshine, Antoinette took to her garden and began weeding. The sun beamed onto her back and warmed it as she knelt on the ground, working the earth. It had been years since they had had such a beautiful summer and Antoinette often found herself swept up in the sounds and smells and heat.

She planted and moved dirt, her hands dark from the mud. It was one of her few pleasures in life and she enjoyed it more than almost anything else. Enjoying the sun and working away she lost herself in her world until she felt a familiar chill roll along her spine.

She knelt up and turned slowly. Erik stood under the old apple tree in the corner of the garden, shrouded in shadow, white mask staring out at her. Antoinette stood, dropping her small spade on the floor and moving towards him.

'Is it really you?' she asked, as she joined him in the shade, almost unable to believe her own eyes it had been so long.

'Who else?' he asked, blue eyes piercing through the darkness. He looked no worse for any ordeals he may have gone through, the smooth side of his face showed little ageing and his eyes were young and sharp as ever.

She reached out and then, noticing the dirt on her hands, pulled them back towards her body. Erik smiled and took her hand in his anyway, kissing her fingertips. 'How I've missed you, old friend,'

'Are you here to stay?' she asked, but one look at his face confirmed her fears.

'No,' he said. 'I only came… is she alright?'

'She has much to tell you, Erik,' Antoinette answered. 'Come inside, I'll fetch you a drink,'

He shook his head as she knew he would. 'I can't,'

'If you would only…'

He held his hand up. 'Is she alright?'

Antoinette nodded. 'She thinks you're dead,'

'Perhaps it is for the best,' he said, glancing around him. 'Walk with me,'

He led them to the gate at the back of her property and down the quaint avenue behind it. They walked in silence for a long time, and she felt his warmth at her side, further assuring her that he was real.

'May I ask where you have been?' she said cautiously. Even as a child he had never been particularly open, always preferring to keep his secrets. She did not expect him to answer her and when he did, she felt a twinge of not only surprise but of delight. Perhaps some things could change.

'I've been making things safe,'

'For Christine?'

He nodded.

'And is she safe now?'

'Yes,'

'Will you tell me what happened?'

He seemed to think about it for a moment, quiet and reflective, as he had so often been during their friendship. She thought that perhaps this was the point at which his disclosure would end but instead he replied, simply, 'The document,'

'I know about it,'

'It contained a thorough breakdown of a plot to murder the Queen of England,' Erik said with a shake of his head. 'A detailed summary of years of careful planning, including names and maps.... How Philippe managed to get his hands on a copy of it I'm not sure. I would imagine they guarded the thing with incredible caution. It is what set this whole series of events in motion,'

Antoinette was surprised but not completely shocked. It seemed very little did that to her these days. 'When was this _plot_ supposed to unfold?'

'That very year,' Erik replied. 'They needed to keep it quiet. The guard, Davies, was the leader of the coup. He wanted the Prince to take power early, I can only assume because he thought he would then have the king's ear,'

'It all seems so…'

'Strange?' Erik asked. She nodded. 'It was but it was real,'

Antoinette began to laugh, 'So, _you_ have saved the Queens life?'

Erik shrugged his shoulders and smirked. 'Not on purpose.'

She smiled.

'It was a sort of… added bonus, if you will, of saving Christine's,'

'Do you know how Philippe became involved?'

'Complicated though it may seem, some members of the coup thought that he might be interested in a power share of sorts,'

The ballet mistress rolled her eyes. 'They actually thought that Philippe, Comte De Chagny, would want any part in this?'

'Their reasoning was that, with French and English relations not exactly being the best, he might have a vested interest in ploughing some money into the whole thing,'

'Money for what?'

'Meetings, weapons… fancier clothes when they were members of court,' Erik smiled. 'I did not say there was much logic to their plan,'

Antoinette stopped abruptly, feeling the sun and Erik's eyes on her face, 'Would it have worked?'

'The plot?'

She nodded.

'I think so,' Erik replied as they began walking again. 'If only for the fact that the guards had access to her,'

'Would they have got away with it?'

'I doubt it,' Erik shrugged. 'From what I could tell, none of the Queen's guards were involved in the plot and no one in the police force,'

'So who is Gustav?' she asked, remembering what Raoul had told her when he had begged for the phantom's location.

Erik smiled. 'A senior police officer at Scotland Yard,' he opened the gate for her, letting her back through into her garden. They stood under the apple tree, its shade sheltering them from the now blistering sunshine. 'Philippe had contacted him when he got hold of a copy of the document. Gustav needed the evidence and more time and so he asked them to wait,'

'You've spoken to him,'

Erik nodded. 'Gustav is a code name he uses, as he works in some seedy business. He told me that he had asked Philippe to keep the document safe until it could be collected.'

'I'm surprised he agreed,'

'At this stage, I don't think the coup had realised that Philippe had stolen any evidence. As I say, I only _assume_ he stole it I really don't know,' Erik explained. 'Philippe simply _knowing_ was not enough, Gustav needed proof,'

'They somehow found out he had contacted Gustav,'

Erik nodded. 'And then they made several attempts at his life, succeeding shortly after he had handed the papers to Raoul,'

Antoinette sighed and said, 'And Raoul was friends with a member of the coup already, that is how they knew he had the document…'

Erik nodded, 'Raoul must have said something, or he at least had been over heard,' Erik said. 'But it's still unclear quite how they knew,'

She squeezed her eyes closed and swallowed, a vision of Raoul's gentle features drifting across her mind. 'Philippe and Raoul…' she took a deep breath to stop any tears from forming. 'Gone for something that should never have involved them,'

When she opened them again, Erik was staring at her. His intense blue eyes filled with concern, filled with affection. 'I'm sorry,' he said.

'For once, Erik,' she said, forcing a smile. 'This was not your fault,'

'I should have protected him,' Erik conceded.

'And risk Christine?'

He glanced up.

'No, Erik,' she shook her head. 'You and I both know that you could not have saved them both that night. You do not need me to tell you that you made the right choice.'

He looked away, his eyes scanning the horizon.

'I wonder if it is Raoul you feel bad for or if it is Christine,'

He turned back to her but said nothing, his eyes thoughtful and dark.

'Perhaps you would not admit that you did not want him to die,' she said her eyes fixed on his face, trying to read him. 'Thinking back, you had many chances to kill him… you never did,'

'She loved him,' Erik sighed.

'She loved _you_,'

Erik smiled ruefully. 'If only she had,'

'Erik…'

He held up his palm. 'Please, Antoinette,'

She opened her mouth to speak but closed it again, the sorrow he clearly felt about the past was not something she felt she should stir up.

'Does Nadir know that you are here?' She asked, instead.

He shook his head.

'What has he told you?' she asked. 'About Christine?'

'I don't ask him much,' Erik replied. 'I only want to know that she is alive. I never wanted him to tell me more.'

Antoinette stared up at him, torn now.

He didn't know, he had no idea.

Nadir had said nothing and therefore, Erik was completely in the dark. Why had Nadir not mentioned anything to his friend in their correspondence? It seemed one of those things that a friend would tell you about the woman you loved.

Perhaps Nadir had his reasons, perhaps he thought that Erik had enough to handle without knowing what was happening in Paris.

'What is it?' he asked, noticing the look in her eyes.

What could she say? This was not her story to tell, it was Christine's. If Nadir had not thought it appropriate then surely Antoinette had no right to tell him herself.

'Nothing,' she finally said, but the look on Erik's face told her that she was not about to be believed. She frantically searched her mind for an excuse but came up short because all she could think of, in that moment, was that Erik did not know.

And suddenly, what she did or didn't do became irrelevant.

Fate played its final card.


	34. Chapter 34

_A/N: Hmm, I'm starting to wonder if I am getting predictable! I'm glad the last chapter didn't cause too much disappointment. I will get around to writing review replies over the next week, as I am very grateful for all of the support. This story has been a long process but… I actually think it turned out okay and did basically what I intended._

_I hope you're all happy with the final chapter, it has been re-written more times than I care to admit!_

'_Just when I'd stopped opening doors,  
Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours,  
Making my entrance again with my usual flair,  
Sure of my lines,  
No one is there.'_ Send in The Clowns from 'A Little Night Music'

Just because it's brilliant…

**Chapter 34**

Erik stood, watching the expression change on Antoinette Giry's face from pleased to something akin to horror. She had visibly paled and her eyes were wide, almost with surprise. It had changed so much that Erik found himself looking around, thinking she had spotted something that he had missed. There was nothing, though, except for the sounds of birds and the raging summer sun.

'What is it?' he asked, now concerned that there was something wrong with his friend.

'Nothing,' she answered after an eternity. She wasn't a convincing liar, she never had been, and now he felt only more worried that whatever ailed her was something she could not tell him. In the past, she had told him almost everything, even if the favour was rarely reciprocated, the fact that she was holding back now made his heart hammer in his chest.

Erik was about to protest when the garden broke into chaos and several children burst in, giggling and rolling around, chasing each other in the scorching heat. He slunk back, into the shadows and out of sight but one of the smaller boys had seen him and continued to stare in his direction in surprise.

They stared at each other, two sets of blue eyes locked together until his friend's voice broke the through the numbness.

'Erik,' Antoinette said, but the sound was now behind him as he made his way to the back gate. 'Wait!'

He turned briefly, 'I must go,'

'You are safe here, Erik,' his friend called after him. 'Please wait,'

Her objections fell on deaf ears as he felt the all too familiar urge to escape, now regretting that he had shown himself in the daylight at all. Where there were children there were undoubtedly parents, and he did not want any _mishaps_.

'Erik,'

He paused at the gate, cold steel cutting into his palm as he squeezed the bar. The voice was not his friends. The voice was glorious and unmistakable and made his heart cease to beat. He swallowed, fighting his instincts and opened the gate to leave.

'Is this how it is to be?' she asked, and this time her voice was closer. His stopping had given her time to get nearer to him.

He closed his eyes and slowly he turned.

When he found the courage to open them again, Christine stood there, splendid in a white summer dress, eyes dark yet bright as ever, hair smooth, like the most expensive silk. She held her hand up, a gesture intended to ask him to wait, and ushered the children away, pausing briefly to wipe the boy with blue eyes' face.

Erik did not move.

When she turned back to face him he found that he could not utter a word, his mouth was too dry, like cotton. He could only look at her. She had rendered him utterly speechless, as she always did, just by _being_.

'You're alive,' she said and if he had not known better he would have sworn he saw the beginnings of a small smile tug at her rose lips and then fall away.

He nodded.

'I'm glad,' she said. They stood looking at each other for a long moment, their eyes locked in a perpetual battle… _Erik, heart or mind_…

'You look…'

She glanced down at herself and a blush crept along her cheeks. 'Messy… I know…'

'No,' he said. 'Beautiful,' he swallowed. '_Wonderful_,'

The blush deepened and she stepped closer. He fought the urge to turn and bolt, to back away.

'I was worried,' she said, eyes never leaving his. 'It's been…'

He closed his eyes briefly, 'Three years, four months, thirteen days,' he said quietly, the words sticking to the sides of his throat. He remembered _that_ day like it was yesterday.

She stared at him in silence, her eyes soft and deep, _watching_ him… the quiet between them grew, neither able to move and yet neither able to speak. Eventually, his head took over and he sighed, turning his back.

Again he made it to the gate and again her voice stopped him in his tracks. 'Oh Erik, where have you been?'

Facing her he said, 'I'm sorry,'

'I thought you were dead,' there was anger there but also, something else. Something deeper. 'How could you let me think that? After everything… how could you let me think you were gone?'

'It was for your protection,' he explained softly. He glanced briefly over her shoulder, noticing that Antoinette and the children were now all gone from the garden and the back door was closed. They were alone, out of sight at the back of the garden… _completely_ alone.

'And now?' she asked. 'Today?'

He didn't know what to say.

'You would leave without speaking to me, you would let me go on believing that you had died?'

He gritted his teeth together; sorrow, pain, distress… _love_… 'And what good does this do us?' he asked.

_Hope_.

'It eases my mind, Erik,' her anger so blatant that it shook him. 'I thought you had died because of me!'

Before he could stop himself the words poured from his mouth. He wasn't sure where his composure had gone, his restraint, but alas it was nowhere to be found. 'You should not be sad for that, Christine. You should know that I would happily die for you,' he said simply, with a half shrug of his shoulders. '_Happily_. If it would save you, I would die for you.'

She looked at her hands, delicate and smooth, 'I know,'

'Your life would have been simpler for never knowing me,' he said, heart aching. '_Better_,'

Her head shot up and she stared at him. 'How can you say that?'

'It's true,'

'And yet here I stand, begging you not to go,' she said. 'Does that tell you nothing, Erik?'

He could not reply, he did not know how or why or what, he knew only that she was there and as it had always been, all he could see was her.

'Perhaps my life would have been simpler… but _better_?' she stared at him, eyes intense and dark. 'I would rather have had you in my life for one day… _one single day_… than live a lifetime without knowing you, without music and without art,' she swallowed. 'Without love,'

He said nothing.

'Without you loving me,' she stepped closer and though his mind screamed at him to move away, he could not. He was stuck, frozen. She reached up and touched his cheek. 'Without loving you…'

Gently she pressed her lips to his cheek, warmth spread through him and he closed his eyes, letting the sensation linger on his skin.

'I've missed you so much,' she said, tucking her arms around his waist and resting his head on his chest. 'I can't even tell you how much…'

Carefully, he wrapped his arms around her, letting her squeeze him to her body. She felt thinner than he remembered, but just as lovely, and he allowed himself the moment in her arms, pretending he had never been anywhere else.

Pretending that there simply wasn't anywhere else _to_ be.

'Forgive me,' he said gently, not really knowing what to feel or what to think. 'I should have written but I was afraid of putting you in danger,'

She nodded against his chest. 'I really thought that you were gone,' he could hear the tears in her voice. 'I thought I would never see you again,'

He moved her away from him and looked into her eyes.

'I could hardly bear it, Erik,' she said, as tears slid from her eyes. 'I never realised…' She stopped. 'Have you thought of me?' she asked.

'I think of you every day,' he replied honestly. 'And have done so every day since I first met you,'

She smiled that smile that made his heart beat, 'Do you know, Erik?'

'Know what?' he asked, confused.

She smiled again, a little wider. 'I think Madame Giry knew it long before I did,'

'What?' he asked gently.

'That I have always loved you,' she said, without breaking eye contact. 'That I love you now, that I loved you all the time you thought that I didn't, all of the time I thought Raoul was… I loved you _always_,'

With those words his heart stopped, his mind paused, he could not breath and he could not speak, he simply stared. They were the words he had wanted to hear for so long, words that he had dreamt of, words that _never_ came. He had wanted them so much, needed them _almost_, that now he heard them he was incapable of responding. Incapable of even moving.

'No one could ever love me more than you have, Erik,' she said, taking his hand in both of hers. Stroking the skin of his palm with her soft thumbs. 'I understand that now, everything you have done for me, all these years, because you loved me… more than anyone could imagine. More than _I_ could imagine,'

Erik stared down at their hands, together, his breathing slowly returning to normal, his heart bumping softly in his chest.

'And I…' She smiled, lifted his hand to her lips and pressed a kiss to his palm. 'I never even realised that I was capable of… of such _love_, I didn't even know it existed.'

'Christine…' he said, his voice hoarse.

'Please…' her eyes worried, she said, 'Don't leave me, don't walk away,'

He didn't know what to say to her.

'I understand now,' she repeated, eyes pleading. 'And we can go wherever you need to, _anywhere_, just don't leave,'

'I could not make you live your life the way I have lived mine, Christine,' he said softly, heart tearing as he spoke.

'Then we will find a middle ground,' she insisted, her tone earnest. 'We will go somewhere in the countryside, not too far but not too close to others… _Erik_, I know now that anything is possible.' She smiled at him. '_You_ make anything possible,'

Forcing his eyes away from her face, he glanced over his shoulder at the partly open gate, at escape, at the life he had always known.

'You're worried for me but I know my own mind,' she said, when he turned back to her. 'I have had years to think about this moment, to think about what I would do if I should ever see you again.' She touched his chest. '_This_ is what I want,'

He opened his mouth to speak but no words were forthcoming, all of his rational thought was gone and he was left with nothing to say. He knew that he should walk away, that he could never truly make her happy, but she looked so honest, so vulnerable that his feet were sinking into the ground. The more she spoke, the further he sank.

It wasn't an unpleasant sensation.

'I love you, Erik,' she whispered. 'Don't leave me,'

And in that moment it was decided. Not because it was right or because he could be a better man, not because he felt pressured or because he felt pity but because he loved her. To him there was not now, nor had there ever been, anything else worth living for. Since the moment he met her he had loved her with all of his heart, all of his soul, and today was no different to then.

He slipped his arm around her back, showing confidence that belied the nervous churning in the pit of his stomach, and pressed his lips to hers. They were soft, as he remembered, and her body was warm and moulded to him. He felt as her arms embraced his neck and pulled him closer, he knew that he could never let go now.

When the kiss ended, and she leaned away, everything seemed different. This kiss was not the end, not this time, not as their other kisses had proved to be. This was only the beginning.

'I'm sorry,' she said, gently, as she pressed another kiss to his lips. 'I will make it up to you, all of those years, I will make it up to you,'

'You have nothing to be sorry for,' he said. 'There should be no more apologies between us.'

She nodded, eyes sparkling under the beaming sun.

'What is in the past should remain there,' he said, and for the first time in his life he actually believed that he could let it go. 'From now on, for us, there is only the future…'

'And you won't leave?'

He smiled. 'How could I ever leave you?'

She broke away from him and slipped her hand in his. 'Follow me, I have something to show you,'

He hesitated, as he knew that he often would, until he learnt not to. Until she taught him not to.

'Trust me,' she whispered.

He nodded and slowly followed, hands clutched together as their hearts had always been.

'Madame Giry will want to see this,' Christine said, holding their linked hands up. 'And I think it is time that you met your son,'

_A/N: Hope it wasn't too soppy! I'm not great at fluff._

_I know that I am not supposed to do this but who cares. I'd just like to give a special, public thanks to:_

_**Mels4**__: for encouraging me and being so kind when I was going through perhaps the toughest period in my life. For sticking with this and my other fics._

_**Mominator124**__: for reading the whole thing, every time, and leaving such good, in depth reviews._

_They have both read at least the last two of my stories and review nearly every chapter. Not only that, they encourage me when I feel down. All of the reviews are very much appreciated and I will reply to all of you but I just wanted to say an extra special thanks to the two reviewers above!_


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